


Song Of The Nightingale

by Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-17
Updated: 2010-09-09
Packaged: 2017-10-11 03:36:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 44,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/107902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustaciavye/pseuds/Eustacia%20Vye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Voldemort won the Battle of Hogwarts, and the Wizarding World was transformed into the world of his vision. Six years later, Potions Master Marcus Flint purchased a group of Mudbloods for experimentation. This was not supposed to be a difficult occurrence.</p><p><b>Warnings:</b> This is post-DH (minus the Epilogue of Doom) AU. I vaguely or not so vaguely reference past physical and sexual violence. This is not a happy place to be in, and it's dark as all hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bought And Sold

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "rape recovery" box on my [hc_bingo](http://community.livejournal.com/hc_bingo/) card.

"You must be mistaken," Marcus Flint said, staring into the rank cell in shock. He looked down at the invoice in his hand and then back up into the cell. The figure huddled in the corner stank from its own caked filth and was barely recognizable as a girl due to her half-starved state. "This is _not_ possibly part of my shipment."

Marcus' cousin Adrian Pucey sighed. "Sorry, mate. That definitely is part of the shipment. We're at the correct cell number."

"I can't do anything with that!" he snarled, waving his hand in the general direction of the dark, odiferous cell. "It'll cost the entire purchase price in potions just to get her to a workable level for the field trials."

Adrian ran a quick diagnostic spell and whistled. "He must have _hated_ her, for this level of damage on a simple scan. I'm going to have to run a more thorough diagnostic before you sign any paperwork. You should be able to knock the price down to at least half."

"This is the last time I buy anything from Nott," Marcus growled. "What's on the scan, then?"

"Multiple levels of scarring, dehydration, starvation, missing organs--"

"What? What's missing?"

"Her uterus, surrounding ligaments and tendons. Nott apparently missed the ovaries. Took out the appendix and portions of a kidney. It was really rather crudely done, and left a mess of adhesions and scar tissue in its wake. She's also running a low grade fever."

Marcus glowered, making his already rough features look downright frightening. "And all this on a simple scan, then?" He raked a hand through his dark hair and leveled a glare at his cousin. "The others in the lot weren't this bad. She's going to have to be washed and scrubbed for you to do a more thorough scan."

"Nott's got the house elves," Adrian replied blandly, rubbing his wand with the ball of his thumb. "You run through the negotiations, and I'll set the elves to do a proper cleanup so I can do a thorough check. Between that and Malfoy's original dossier, I should be able to tell what else has been done."

"We only brought the overview," Marcus reminded him with a nod. "The full dossier is in his office. The bastard wouldn't give me what he'd found without the full fee."

Adrian merely laughed at Marcus' disgruntled expression. "You know it's worth every knut. And with what I can tell on a simple scan, you'll need to purchase the full dossier. I'll want as much background information as he gathered."

Marcus nodded and stalked off. Adrian summoned one of Ruisart Nott's elves and instructed it on the procedure to scour the cell and its captive clean. Standard scouring spells that Nott instructed his elves to use on prisoners would likely rupture all the scar tissue. There was no point in killing the girl prior to determining her usefulness for their studies. It would be some time before Nott and Marcus came to an agreement about the price on this lot; the other four were barely serviceable, but this girl was half dead. The house elves carefully cleansed the cell and surface layers of grime. More delicate spells were used to slough off the grit, dirt, waste, dead skin and body hair from the girl. The decaying rags barely covering her were removed as well, and one of the elves brought in an examination table for Adrian to conduct his more thorough diagnostic spells. The elves had to move her into position; she barely seemed to register what was happening around her, and all her energy seemed to have been sapped by the baleful glare she leveled in Adrian's direction when she was left utterly naked in the corner.

"Well, Old Nott must have really taken a shine to you," Adrian murmured, beginning his diagnostic. "I wonder why that is."

"I scarred him," she replied, her voice scratchy and weak from disuse. "Even without magic, I attacked him. I scarred him."

Adrian lofted an eyebrow. "When was this?"

She turned away from his arch expression. "It doesn't matter."

"I must admit," Adrian replied in his same droll tone. "I find it curious. Other than halfhearted curses to establish dominance over a Mudblood, Nott usually doesn't do this much damage to the merchandise."

The girl remained silent, and Adrian shrugged. What he needed to do didn't require her participation or cooperation. If she was still trying to fight, he would have restrained her to the table. As it was, she lay there, taking shallow breaths with her eyes shut.

Adrian heard Marcus' stomps before his cousin arrived in the cell block. "Well?" he asked, not looking up from the scan.

"Once we're off the grounds, I'm filing a formal complaint with the Ministry offices and taking his contact name off the national supplier register," Marcus snarled. "He had no choice but to accept my terms."

"Which were?"

"She's just under a quarter of the original price." Marcus ignored Adrian's whistle at his bargaining skills. "And Nott had to throw in two of his most recent acquisitions, sight unseen."

"Hopefully not as bad as this one."

"He had her ten months," Marcus spat, lip curling in distaste. "And she had been a virgin when he caught her."

"Fuck. They still exist?" Adrian joked, lofting an eyebrow at his cousin. "She also said she scarred him."

"Did she now?" Marcus stepped further into the cell and walked around the examination table. He seized her face in his hand roughly and turned her face to the side. The light in the cell was dim, and her eyes were shut tight. She looked almost familiar, though he couldn't place the dark hair or bony features. Given her age, he must have seen her at Hogwarts. "When you're in a better state, you might be worth the price I paid."

Her eyes opened, and the hate in her green eyes nearly took him aback. It was familiar, though he still couldn't place it.

"I'll have the full report by the time we get back to the house," Adrian said, concluding his spellwork. "The transports should be ready, then. I do think you're depleting his stock."

"Bastard owes me for not delivering what he'd promised," Marcus growled, roughly dropping the girl's face. He took the file folder in Adrian's hand, which had the list of all the Mudbloods he was supposed to have purchased. He would definitely have to obtain the full dossier from Malfoy in the morning.

The name corresponding to this particular cell was Katherine E. Bell, Hogwarts Class of 1997.

***

Marcus Flint's home was a sprawling three-story Tudor house that had been in the family for generations. He had a special outbuilding built in the rear of the property, heavily warded and defended against invasion or escape. It was here that he did his potions field trials; he had started out at St. Mungo's, but some bleeding heart Healer had interfered once too often in his work. Off their grounds, they had no way to stop his field trials and could pretend they didn't know how he was able to test his new potions. Adrian Pucey was his second cousin and a first rate Healer, which made things that much simpler. Adrian had his own rooms at Flint's home and did the medical examinations pre and post test, as well as all of the initial examinations. He was also the one that generated the Healer's interaction for those potions that Marcus developed which needed a spell to activate or limit its use.

Marcus hadn't thought he would become a Potions Master when he had first started school, but his father's death in his seventh year changed everything. He had missed too many classes taking care of the tangled mess that his father had left behind. Most of his father's failed businesses had to be sold off piecemeal to recoup any losses, and thankfully none of the Gringotts vaults or investments had to be divested from his portfolio. He wouldn't have bothered to even go back to Hogwarts, but Severus Snape had offered him a useful choice. When returning for a second seventh year, Marcus could take a reduced course load of whatever classes or electives he didn't test out of. The remaining time could be spent in an apprenticeship with Snape. It would teach him a useful trade, as well as open various doors for him politically and socially; potion making was a secretive art, and few newcomers were welcome. Between that apprenticeship and training with Master Eboncrest over the following two years, Marcus had developed a rather gifted talent at potion making. He had his own apothecary by the spring of 1997, as well as the research grant at St. Mungo's. He moved out of their laboratories in the following year, setting up shop in his own home by the time the War of Wizard Supremacy was won.

Mudbloods were expunged from the population statistics. They were either run to ground or slaughtered outright, and no new Mudblood students were brought into the Wizarding World. Marcus quickly petitioned to use them as test subjects for potion development, which had spell developers and equipment designers following suit. He was granted the most extensive allowances due to his research status, and found it to be a useful population to test on. That way he could be sure that his subjects responded to potions in the manner of witches and wizards, without risking any Pureblood or Halfblood lives. No one cared about Mudbloods; they were disposable nuisances to society. While some supporters in the early days had suggested the slaughter of Blood Traitors, that ultimately was not allowed. Their bloodlines could not be allowed to die out simply because they were misguided fools, but they weren't trusted. They were collared the same as the enslaved Mudbloods, their abilities severely curtailed by whoever carried responsibility over them. Most were kept as little more than brood mares or studs, but some were kept as status pets. Marcus didn't approve of either practice.

Katie Bell couldn't be kept in with the other test subjects in the outbuilding, but he had no other place to keep her than his own home. The thought made him vaguely disgusted, and this was something else to lay at Ruisart Nott's door. Theodore Nott wasn't a bad sort; he could have just as easily been sorted into Ravenclaw for all of his bookishness, and he was an admirable teacher for Ancient Runes at Hogwarts as far as the gossip mill went. But then, Marcus Flint wasn't one to visit hatred from one generation to the next. Ruisart Nott was a liar and a cheat, but Theo Nott was more levelheaded and trustworthy. He must have taken after his mother, a Prewett. They were unfailingly and often disgustingly honorable.

Marcus wound up emptying a side pantry near his kitchen, then expanding it to fit a small bed and armoire. "During your convalescence, you are to earn your keep," he told Katie Bell with a glower. "You're not going to laze about and do nothing. That's not what you're here for." Those green eyes looked as though she would have cheerfully carved out his heart if she still was allowed to use her magic. "You're going to cook all of the meals and clean this house. You do not step foot outside of it. I have gardeners to care for the grounds. If you step outside the confines of this house, your collar will give you a shock. Am I clear?" he growled.

Katie gave him a sullen nod, her lips pressed tightly together. Marcus didn't rightly care. She was going to earn her keep, and he didn't need her to be happy about it. There were no means to poison or disable him; Adrian had helped him layer those specific things into the house wards. Neither man could be harmed on the grounds at all, though there were always safe guards on the outbuilding where Marcus ran his experiments and potions trials.

She moved slowly at first, as if her joints ached and her limbs couldn't quite manage what she wanted them to do. She was certainly weak in spite of Adrian's refeeding and potions schedule, so she did little more than cook simple meals. Not one even had a trace of poison in it, and Marcus was almost disappointed. She had been a Gryffindor, according to the preliminary report; apparently Draco Malfoy hadn't actually compiled all of his data into a readable dossier after all. As a Gryffindor, she should have felt some kind of righteous anger at her present state, and she should have seen Marcus as symbolic of the enemy at large. She should have _wanted_ to hurt him. In the first few days, it was all she could do to pull a pasta dish together and a vague sense of vegetable. Adrian checked on her daily, telling Marcus behind closed doors that it was really too soon to put the damaged girl to work.

Marcus vaguely remembered her, however. She was tough. For all that Ruisart Nott tortured her nearly to death, Marcus knew that she was still in there somewhere. Given enough time to sort herself out, she would get that same spitfire sensibility back.

When she did, she would be ready for testing.

***

For all that Marcus and Adrian cared about the house in general, they were pants about its actual upkeep. Marcus generally hired one of the village matrons to scour out the house every time he remembered it, and it had easily been months since the house was last cleaned. There were proper cleaning supplies, which Katie had been surprised by. She didn't doubt that Marcus would cheerfully backhand her if she dared to complain that she couldn't do the job he set forth.

It wasn't difficult work under normal circumstances, but these were far from normal. It took her a long time to scrub through the grime on the floors, as she had to rest every few minutes. Adrian never commented on it if he found her breathing heavily with the brush in hand and pail full of dirty water beside her. She was _trying,_ and neither man seemed the sort interested in torture as sheer sport. Maybe as punishment for perceived slights, but not just for the sake of torturing someone. She supposed she had to count herself lucky on that point. This was better than she feared would happen to her, and it pained her to think so. Her mother or Wesley— Her thoughts stuttered to a stop. Ten months later, and it still tore her heart to shreds to think of the night she was captured.

Marcus spent most of his time in the outbuilding, the basement laboratory or his office. The basement and office were locked if he wasn't inside them, and Katie knew it would be off limits if he could program it into her collar. He didn't seem to care that it took her all day to clean the kitchen. He ate in his office if he was alone for the evening, reading through potions journals or his notes from earlier in the day. If Adrian was at the house, the two men went into the parlor and ate in front of the fire with the wireless on. Neither were interested in Katie's company, and that was more than fine with her.

The days slid together easily, a mind numbing routine of waking, cooking, cleaning, her medical checkup, avoiding Marcus and sleeping. She didn't have to do anything special to avoid his notice; the house was large and he didn't expressly look for her until it was mealtime. She was a mudblood, and beneath his notice. As far as he seemed to be concerned, she was little better than a house elf.

The cold iron collar at her neck was more like a torc. The braiding pattern in the iron seemed almost like runes, and the knob ends of the torc nearly touched. If she touched the torc, she could feel the crackle of magic within it. That crackle was likely what suppressed her ability to use magic. It was illegal for mudbloods to be in Wizarding society as anything other than claimed pets, and it was certainly illegal for one to perform magic. That much was made clear by Nott's mad ramblings as he tortured her in her cell. She shook, remembering the touch of his hands holding her down, his teeth breaking skin. For a moment, she thought she was back in that horrible cell, wading in her own filth, certain she was about to die. She couldn't breathe and she was frozen in place. Her heart beat in triple time as her breath came in shallow gasps. _Not again,_ she thought helplessly. Bad enough the bastard repeated his abuse in her nightmares. Bad enough she shook every time she dragged a washcloth across her scarred skin. Bad enough her chest seized every time she thought of her mother or Wesley. Bad enough she was _here_ and _like this._ It wasn't fair that the bastard would haunt her waking moments as well.

"You look ready to fall over," Adrian commented, coming into the kitchen.

Katie dropped the serving dish she had been about to put into the oven. It shattered on the tile floor, spilling everything she had labored over for the past hour and a half. She spun about, nearly falling, her breath coming in sharp, painful gasps. Adrian could punish her, could _torture_ her, and it would be well within his legal rights. Nott certainly never had provocation, and he had laughed in the face of her disgust and pain. He had enjoyed passing her around to his friends, enjoyed watching several of them rape her at once.

"Sit down," Adrian said mildly, nodding at the chairs and table in the breakfast nook of the kitchen. That was usually where Katie ate alone for her meals. He watched her move quickly, with jerky, frightened steps. Holding out his wand, he blithely ignored her flinch to lift the ruined food into the rubbish bin. A quick _Reparo_ fixed the serving dish, and he lifted it up into the sink. He approached Katie with the same detached, clinical air he usually had during his daily visits. "You should be strong enough to lift that," he said, beginning the diagnostic spell.

Katie's tongue was thick in her mouth, her heart beating wildly. He wasn't Nott, he wasn't any of Nott's sadistic friends. But she was still choking on her own fear, because he _could_ be.

Adrian wasn't entirely impressed with her silent routine. The scans picked up on the tachycardia and hyperventilation, the agitated synapses that corresponded to fear and anguish. The physical damage was stabilizing, and she was slowly starting to regain muscle mass and tone. It had only been two weeks since her purchase, and she was progressing nicely. "Your physical condition is to be expected," Adrian said after a moment. "I'll make a notation in the chart."

It made sense that Marcus would keep a chart. He planned to experiment on her. He had always planned to experiment on her. And just that morning, black smoke had come out of the outbuilding and the stench when the wind blew south had smelled like charred flesh. One of the six that had been purchased two weeks ago had died somehow, and Katie didn't even know if she should mourn the lost soul or be glad that it wasn't her. Even that thought should have made her feel ashamed, but she couldn't bring herself to feel it. These were those kind of times, and self preservation was the order of the day.

Katie stopped shaking several minutes after Adrian left the kitchen. She was something less than a patient. A nuisance, perhaps. He didn't have the same look in his eye that Nott had when the front door had been kicked in, but he didn't have to. The law allowed him to do whatever he wanted, just because of an accident of birth. Because her parents had been Muggle, no matter that she never knew her father, she was considered something less than human now.

If only Harry hadn't died that day. If only he had won the Battle of Hogwarts the way he was supposed to.

"Drink this," Marcus said, thrusting a potion into Katie's hand. She trembled slightly as she looked up into his thunderous face. He'd never looked for her during the day before, had never seen her caught up in her tangled and horrible memories. "Drink the damn potion," he snarled, not tolerating the hesitation. Katie tipped the bottle up to her lips and drank it quickly, gasping afterward. It tasted vile, and her insides roiled. She couldn't throw up under his gimlet eye, but oh, how she wanted to. Marcus waited about a minute before grasping Katie's arm and yanking her to her feet. She was wearing the dark gray shapeless robe she had been given, with the long sleeves pulled down low over her wrists. She had a plain white apron tied about her waist, and plain gray elastic band was all she had to pull her hair back and out of her face. Marcus raked his gaze over her form, then pulled her arm out in front of her. His callused fingers pushed back the sleeve roughly, and then pressed into her pulse point at the wrist.

And then without warning, his other hand closed over her throat.

She screamed and pushed at his chest with the hand that was free. He was like a pillar, some kind of immovable object. In desperation, choking on air, Katie grasped at his hand and tried to pull, the panic welling up inside of her.

And then she collapsed.

Marcus stood over her prone form and looked at his watch. After precisely thirty seconds, Katie gasped for air again. Her eyes fluttered open, and she felt wrung out and empty somehow. "What happened?" she rasped, confused.

"Hm... Mild retrograde amnesia," Marcus muttered to himself. "It still needs refining, then."

"What?" Katie sputtered, trying to push herself to her feet. She felt even weaker than before, as if she was boneless. She collapsed to her hands and knees, struggling for breath.

"I can't seem to escape the weakness," Marcus grumbled, making another mental note. Katie could almost see the wheels turning in his mind.

Fucking hell. He was already experimenting on her. She grasped a chair and tried to haul herself up into it. She couldn't seem to gather up her strength, though her breathing was evening out. "What did you do?" she rasped, clutching at her throat. She couldn't feel any fear. She couldn't feel anything but numb, really, as if nothing he said would ever matter.

Marcus grasped her by her upper arms and easily plopped her down in the chair she was trying to sit in. "When I tell you," he said, in a tone that brooked no argument, "You have to try to stand."

"I don't understand," Katie said, her voice slowly returning to normal. This should have bothered her more, but she was too numb to feel disturbed.

He grasped her chin and tipped her head back with one hand, and moved to pry her eyes wider apart with his other. "Too dilated. I'll have to cut the opiate, then. That might be what's causing the memory loss and weakness." Marcus was thinking aloud, and Katie was vaguely starting to wonder if perhaps she should be keeping track of what he was saying.

"I don't feel right," Katie murmured, his hands still on her face. They stopped moving, and she stopped feeling vaguely ill.

"What do you feel?" Marcus demanded, dark eyes boring into her face as if searching for clues.

"Sick. I'm going to fall down."

"Stand up."

She blinked and did as she was told. The shadows seemed to shift around her, and she swayed on her feet. With an impatient growl, Marcus shoved her back into the chair. "I need to get dinner," Katie murmured, finally realizing what she should have been doing when all of this started.

"I ate already," Marcus growled impatiently. He was watching her eyes and had his hand clamped down around her wrist. He was frowning the entire time, his harsh features appearing even more chiseled and forbidding. It was nothing like Nott's facial features, nothing like the vaguely demonic creatures creeping at the edges of her nightmares. "Stand up."

Katie swayed and missed the chair when she thought she was going to fall. Marcus caught her peremptorily, muttering to himself all the while. By the time he had forced her to stand up at least ten times, she stopped feeling quite so dizzy and nauseous. He wasn't entirely pleased with the apparent side effects of whatever he had given her, but his glower did ease. "You will let me know when you begin to feel your panic again," Marcus instructed firmly. "I don't care what time it is, you come find me."

She nodded, and was glad when Marcus allowed her to sit back down. She was even more glad when he left the room. The way he stared at her was unnerving, and it rattled her more than she wanted to say. The problem was, she was sure he already knew.

***  
***


	2. Moving Through Nightmares

Wesley was sitting in the driver's seat, the gash in his forehead bleeding profusely. "I can drive, Kate," he said, annoyed at her endless amount of concern. "It's just a stupid cut that's looking worse than it is. I'm going to smash his fucking face in and tell Gloria it's over."

Katie shook her head, foreboding washing over her. "Look, he almost knocked you out..."

"Katie, it's nothing." Wesley touched the wound with his fingers, and they came away wet and slick with his blood. He had a faint niggling sense of concern at the sight of it, that perhaps the glass of the bottle had cut him deeper than he thought it had. "Well, I suppose I should head to the hospital."

Katie pressed her lips together unhappily. "Wesley..."

He flashed her a charming smile, the one that had once charmed Gloria but no longer seemed to do the trick. "Or why don't you just magic it shut? One little healing spell so I can kick that bloke's arse for this and then dump that bitch properly. It's been five years, Kate. I'm sure they've forgotten you by now."

She had wanted to go to America to hide. Or France. Or any other country at all. She sometimes listened to the whispers, tried to pick up on the wizarding wireless stations on the radio. Voldemort ruled England with an iron fist and there were collaborators in Ireland. The rest of Europe and America shut them out, refusing to be part of his regime. The international support he thought he could count on dried up, so Voldemort's reign was limited only to England. But Wesley was in university, and he had his girlfriend. He was hoping to propose to her. So they moved closer to his university and stayed in England despite her misgiving. Katie stopped using magic. She had no appreciable skills, no A levels to fall back on, so all she could do was be a shop girl to make a little money. She tried not to be bitter, she really did. It was just her and Wesley and Mum, and she had already caused so much upheaval.

One little healing spell. She had thought perhaps they would have to move again. But they never even got a chance to pack.

Katie forced herself awake as the door was kicked in, as Nott's ravenous eyes raked across the room. _I found you..._

She hadn't screamed this time. Her chest heaved with the effort to breathe, to remember that it wasn't happening again. But Wesley was dead. Her mum was dead. Nott had taken her away, kicking and screaming and bleeding, his blood in her mouth and a clump of her hair missing. It had been the beginning of ten months of rape and torture and starvation, and her soul shriveled up inside of her. She didn't want to remember it, didn't want to feel as if it was happening all over again.

Dawn wasn't even streaking through the sky yet. There was no window in the enlarged pantry that was her bedroom. She could tell because of the chill air in the house, the stillness of the walls around her. When dawn came and the beams grew warm, there was a different kind of creak. It was almost comforting, the way the house responded to light and dark and all the in betweens. It was as if it knew the rhythms of the world and had learned to live with it. If a house could do that, perhaps with time, so could she. Maybe someday she could turn her face to the sun and not want to cry because her brother and mother could no longer do it. Maybe someday she could remember them without guilt.

She moved through the house like a ghost, her stocking feet making no noise along the floorboards. She had the shapeless gray robe and white apron as clothing, and that was about it. Still, the two men in this household didn't grasp her with their greedy hands wanting to fuck her into submission. They didn't push her down into the floor or chain her to a desk to whip and sodomize her. They considered her little more than trash, but she could deal with their indifference. She preferred it to Nott's style of attention.

She curled into the space in the attic eaves and watched the sun come up. Emboldened by the continued silence of the house, she unlatched the attic window and leaned outside. She shut her eyes as she felt a cool breeze caress her face. It was a long way down to the ground. Maybe she wouldn't survive it. Maybe she would be shattered and broken, and Marcus would consider it an even bigger inconvenience than her scarred body. Katie hastily wiped the tears running down her cheeks. There was no one else to remember Wesley and Mum. There was no one else to remember _her_ if she died.

"Might as well live," she told herself, and crept down from the attic. It was another day of servitude, another day for her body to recover. She wasn't sure if her mind ever would.

***

Another month, and Katie noticed black smoke coming from the outbuilding. She heard Marcus grumbling to himself and snarling at Draco Malfoy during a fire call the day before; he had expected Draco to put together the requested dossiers as soon as they were requested. "I have an actual job, Flint," Draco had drawled, sounding amused. "This is just a little side project. I have some information. I just plan to interview everyone all over again for myself. That shouldn't take too much longer."

Marcus had been obviously displeased, and it was too much of a coincidence for another muggleborn to be dead the next day.

Katie had hoped to escape his notice entirely, but apparently he was starting to keep an eye on her around the house. She could feel his gaze like a tangible thing as it fell across her back while she was kneeling on the floor scrubbing. Or when she was washing the windows. He just stared, just hovered at the periphery of her vision. Katie was in the middle of enemy territory as far as she was concerned, and she didn't trust that it would simply remain staring for long.

She was doing the dishes three weeks later when he made his move. The basement door opened, and she could hear Marcus' voice. "Just get her," he told Adrian in an annoyed tone.

She didn't even think. She dropped the dish she was washing and took off through the house. It wasn't as if she could hide forever; as large as the house was, there was only so far she could go. And she suspected that some of the runelike designs in the torc allowed them to find her. She had gotten to know the house very well over the past two months, and she knew just about every nook and cranny in it. She wedged herself into a crawlspace in the attic, her breathing harsh and ragged, her knees pulled up to her chest to make her an even smaller target. If she hid long enough, maybe they would go away and leave her alone. Of all the possibilities that flashed through her mind when she realized she was being purchased, being a housekeeper wasn't so bad. She could lose herself in repetitive tasks. But the basement was his laboratory, and there were two muggleborns dead. Katie had been keeping track, and she wanted nothing to do with whatever Marcus was doing that was killing these unfortunate people.

She didn't know how long it took for them to find her. She could hear the thunderous sound of Marcus' boots across the attic floorboards, and Katie swallowed down the whimper of fear she wanted to make. She turned her head to look out of the crawlspace, and she soon enough saw Marcus' angry glower in her direction.

"Get out of there," he commanded, his voice colored with his annoyance. _"Now."_

Katie shook her head, biting her lip to keep from screaming. It had been two months of fear but no torture; she was well aware that considering this state of being a preferable one was merely choosing the lesser of two evils. She didn't have any rights in the current political climate, and Marcus could kill her right where she cowered if he wanted to. The thought alone tied her stomach into knots.

Growling in frustration, Marcus knelt down by crawlspace and reached in. He grasped her arm and yanked on it. "Come here!" he ground out through grit teeth. He ignored her cry of fear as he dragged her out of the crawlspace. "Fucking waste of time," he snarled, shaking her until her teeth rattled. He slung her over his shoulder, and she landed hard on the bony part of it. The breath whooshed out of her lungs, and for a moment she saw stars.

Gulping for air, Katie tried to wriggle out of Marcus' grasp as he carried her out of the attic and down the stairs. She was gasping, trying to push herself off of his shoulder, but his grip around her waist was tight. It was like an iron band keeping her in place, and he only grunted at any kicks landing on his back. She wasn't wearing shoes, so it didn't hurt. Adrian joined him as Marcus was coming down the stairs from the second to the first floor. "Where was she?" he asked, curious. "It was like she disappeared."

"Attic," Marcus grunted. Katie was dimly aware that she was thrashing around, nearly screaming. "If I ever see Nott again, he's a dead man."

Adrian chuckled. "You get off on this shit, don't lie," he teased.

Marcus grunted in reply, and Adrian led the way into the basement. Katie started babbling as he dragged her down the stairs. "I'll be good please oh please I've been good don't kill me don't please don't I did everything you said..."

Without a word, Marcus pushed Katie up against an exam table that had been tilted almost upright. She had to turn her head to breathe, and Marcus pushed her hands up into the manacles hanging from the top edges of the exam table. She struggled harder, landing her elbow squarely into his gut. He grunted, then grabbed her head and pressed it hard into the table. "Lie still," he snarled. He held her in place and Adrian locked the manacles around her wrists. "Where's the fastenings on this damn thing?" he asked, taking a step back to examine the back of the drab house robe.

"It's a pull over, remember?" Adrian asked, amused. "You ordered dozens of them a while ago. Here's the salve."

Marcus grasped the proffered jar and then simply ripped the back of the robe, exposing Katie's scarred back. She whimpered softly, squeezing her eyes shut to keep from crying. She could hear Nott's sneering voice in the back of her head, the filthy things he said as he tore her open.

But all she felt was Marcus' rough fingers slathering the sticky salve across her back. "Nott's still a dead man. Whatever shit he's pulled did nothing but waste my time," Marcus grumbled.

"True. But you tend to work with what you have."

The grunt in reply must have been some kind of assent. Marcus smoothed the salve over a three inch square section. "All right. Try the repair spell."

Adrian cast the skin repair spell he had been developing. It covered the entire expanse of Katie's back. Not much happened where the salve was applied, but the scars opened all across the uncovered areas of skin. Katie wailed in pain, and it felt like her entire back was on fire except for the square between her shoulder blades.

_"Fuck,"_ both men said. "Do something!" Marcus prodded when Adrian just stared at the blood beginning to pour thickly down her back.

"It shouldn't have done that!" Adrian cried, beginning to seal every scar he had opened.

Marcus glowered at him and watched Katie sob in pain and try to burrow into the exam table to get away from Adrian's sealing spells. "Your spell wasn't tested," Marcus said.

"Give her the fucking panic potion or something," Adrian replied testily. "I can't work like this."

He poured the potion into her mouth, and Katie choked as she swallowed it down. Marcus' expression was unreadable, but as the panic rose above the potion's threshold, Katie passed out, sagging against the exam table. When she came to, she was lying face down on the bed in her pantry bedroom, her ripped robes still exposing her back to open air. She felt awful, and gently pushed herself up to a sitting position. She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling the thin skin on her back stretch. She wiped at her eyes and sniffled. The door to the room was shut, so she changed into a different gray robe and hesitantly opened the door. No one was in the kitchen, and the sink was empty. All of the dishes that had remained were washed and put away.

Katie wandered through the rooms, silently moving from room to room. It was late and most of the house was dark. Other than the kitchen, the only other light came from Marcus' office. He was surrounded by paperwork and was scribbling on a parchment roll when Katie passed by the open door. Marcus abruptly looked up, quill paused over the parchment in mid-stroke. "How does the healed skin feel?" he asked.

"Thin," she replied, her voice a little raw.

"The panic potions seem to have worked better this time. Longer delay, but no dizziness," he observed, looking her over critically.

"I'd prefer it if I was just your servant instead of your test subject," Katie said, her voice a shade too tart.

There was a slight muscle twitch in his jaw. "Don't fight me next time."

"I can't— It reminds me of before. I can't help it."

Marcus' expression didn't waver, and his eyes bored into hers. "That wasn't a suggestion. Don't fight me next time."

Katie suppressed a shiver and backed away from the office. She couldn't make a promise like that even if she wanted to. But he must have taken it as acquiescence, because he bent his head back down to continue whatever he had been writing.

She went back to her little room and curled up on the bed. She was sore and exhausted and could feel the edge of fear creeping back beneath the blanket of numbness the panic potion had supplied her with. She couldn't tell which was worst.

Somehow, she suspected that there would be plenty of further opportunity for her to find out.

***

"Bring my lunch to my lab," Marcus told Katie in the morning as she dusted the first floor. "I'll need to examine your back."

"But you're not the Healer," Katie blurted, confused. Usually Adrian did a cursory set of diagnostic spells during his lunch hour, then returned to St. Mungo's for his shift. His suite of rooms was in a corner of the ground floor of the house, with its own separate entrance. Marcus' suite was on the second floor.

Marcus merely glowered at her, a steady and foreboding gaze. "I need to examine your back."

Katie used the rest of that morning to alter the gray robe with the ripped back. Katie knew that hearing tearing cloth was a trigger for her. Using the sleeves of the robe gave her enough material to replace the ripped areas and add placket with buttons on both sides. It left both of her arms bare, and they were covered with various scars from whips and burns. If Marcus was working on a scar removal system, there was plenty of skin to practice on. Katie's entire upper body was covered in scars of varying degrees of thickness. She changed into the sleeveless robe and descended with Marcus' lunch. She hadn't eaten anything yet, and didn't think she could. She was the type that didn't eat much when nervous, and her insides were quaking. It was a different kind of fear than she had lived in for most of the previous year. With Ruisart Nott, it was a fear about the extent of pain and humiliation she would have to suffer. With Marcus Flint, it was a fear of the unknown.

He didn't say anything about the altered robe as he pushed his work aside to eat his lunch. She stood there, watching him eat, her insides roiling. As he finished, he nodded at a small blue bottle perched at the edge of his desk. "Drink it."

"What is it?" Katie asked, her voice tremulous.

"Just drink the fucking bottle," Marcus snapped, impatient. He obviously didn't like her questioning him, but the fact that he didn't talk much gave her chills. She didn't know what he was about to do, didn't know what he had planned. There was no way to tell with him, as his face was like a mask most of the time.

The blue liquid settled into her stomach. It was cold, and for a moment she could feel the outline of her stomach from the inside. It seemed to absorb quickly, and Katie could almost feel the fear settle into the background. If this was a variant of the panic potion, it was one that didn't knock her out completely. Katie watched Marcus nod to himself and make a notation in one file. She had an almost disinterested air, and it was unsettling to think about. "If you're going to treat anxiety," Katie found herself saying, "you might as well just use Muggle medicine. They already have medicines for that."

Marcus glared at her, but Katie found herself numb to that look. "That filthy—"

"I mean, I don't feel _anything_ right now. You could kill me right now, and I'd probably thank you for it," Katie mused. "That would save me the nightmares and constant memories during the day. That might be nice."

Marcus had stood up from his desk, face thunderous. He pointed at the exam table, which was no longer tilted on its end. It was flat, the way it was supposed to be. "Lie down."

She did as she was told, settling down into a comfortable position on the table and folding her scarred arms beneath her head as a pillow. Funny, this was her first opportunity to really look at his lab. It wasn't scary at all. Racks of bottles and potions ingredients, glassware, cauldrons of various sizes, bright lights and long work benches were all over the area. The center had been cleared out a bit, and that was where his desk and exam table were. Marcus didn't say anything as she looked around his lab. He seemed to appreciate the buttons, and he made quick work of them to look at her back. His fingers were rough, but his touch was light on her skin. He traced all the scars Adrian had resealed the night before.

"It might be easier if you told me what you're looking for," Katie murmured, staring at a row of black bottles with white labels. She was trying to decipher the writing to see what the contents were, but the script was too far away to easily identify.

"I want to see why these opened the way they did," Marcus growled, his touch firming a fraction on her back.

"Lighter, or I'll tear open again," Katie said, her voice stronger than she thought she could make it. But then, right now he could light her on fire and she wouldn't give a damn. "It felt like a scouring pad on my back, that spell he used. Or lighting my skin on fire. I think the fire would be kinder in the end. That hurts more in the short run, but once the nerve endings are destroyed, it stops hurting."

Marcus' hands went still on her back. "What?"

Katie moved slightly to extend her arms. "The scars here. The burns under the whip marks. Well, _that_ burn, anyway," she said blithely, pointing to the large patch of angry-looking skin. "That burn went down to the muscle. He had to actually put something on that one to make it stop bleeding. The rest he left alone."

There was no question who the _he_ was.

"Why did he do this to you?" Marcus asked in a quiet voice. "The others, he loses interest in after a day. He doesn't do this sort of thing to everyone."

"Oh. I scarred him first," Katie said, blithely tucking her arms beneath her head. This not-feeling thing was actually quite nice, once she got used to it. Perhaps she should ask him for more of this calming blue potion. Maybe this was better than Muggle anxiolytic meds after all. "He didn't appreciate bite marks on his thighs and arms, and I scratched up his face and chest. If he was going to try and force himself down my throat, I intended to bite the damn thing off and be done with it. But he never tried that one, sorry to say."

Marcus made a choking noise that might have been startled laughter or dismayed noises. Katie couldn't tell, and couldn't be bothered to turn her head and see for herself. "No, I can't imagine that he'd like that," Marcus said finally. "I'll need to put salves over these new scars to help them heal properly."

"Oh, that would be lovely. They itch something fierce. The panic kept me from feeling it before, but I feel it now." Katie squinted and thought perhaps one of the black bottles was labeled iodine. Why would he need iodine? That wasn't exactly a common potions ingredient.

Marcus moved to one of his work benches and came back with two different glass jars. He rubbed one type of salve onto the skin of her back in a soft, circular motion. "It's been a long time that you were in hiding," he commented.

"Yes," Katie agreed solemnly. If she closed her eyes, perhaps she could pretend she was at the spa. She'd never been to one, but all the films involving spas had included back massages with oils and things.

"Five years gone."

"I should have left England," Katie said quietly. "No one would have bothered to find me, then."

"So why didn't you?" Marcus asked, curious.

"Responsibilities," she murmured. She didn't want to talk about it, but thought saying so would only lead him to ask about it.

He fell silent and rubbed in the second salve. It felt rather nice, now that her skin didn't itch so much. Katie heaved a contented sigh, then pouted when Marcus drew his hands away. "The first bit of peace in a year," she murmured.

Marcus buttoned up the back of the robe. "Finish your duties. I'll need to apply this again at nighttime. Twice a day until it heals properly enough to try again."

"There's my arms," Katie mused as she pushed herself up to a seated position. "But then, I don't think Pucey has enough control of the spell yet. He might just take them off at the elbow."

There seemed to be a bit of amusement in Marcus' eyes at the statement. "You're not normally so... talkative," he observed.

Katie tilted her head to the side and contemplated Marcus' rough features. "Because it doesn't matter what I say. The worst that could happen is you decide to hit me or torture me for it. Or kill me. I've already been through all of that, and it doesn't matter right now. I don't care about anything. I don't feel anything. It's nice, I think. I don't want to feel anything anymore."

Marcus seemed almost disconcerted by her words. "Go finish your work."

Hopping down from the exam table, Katie paused. "Why was I sent here instead of the building in the back? Why was I different?"

"You were too sick for proper testing," Marcus said. "Go finish your work."

"Yes, but why haven't you sent me back if I'm well enough for testing now?"

Marcus towered over her, but she was too numb to feel afraid of his glower. "You want to be sent there? That can be arranged."

"It might not be so bad," Katie replied with a shrug. "They die eventually. Two are dead already. They must feel like this all the time."

"Like what?" he asked, almost in spite of himself.

"Like nothing matters. Nothing matters if you're dead. There's no more pain or meaning then. That must be nice."

She could feel his eyes boring into her back as she climbed the stairs to finish her dusting and cleaning. When the potion wore off, she would probably be mortified and terrified. For now, she was able to go about her business without thinking or worrying.

***

Katie had managed to put in a lot of effort into making dinner before the potion wore off. Marcus actually lofted an eyebrow at her presentation, and Katie's eyes slid away from his. She had her hands clasped tightly in front of her, wondering if he was planning to backhand her for her earlier impertinence. Nott had done that for less.

"Have you eaten?" he asked instead, startling her. Katie shook her head. Once the potion wore off, she had been unable to eat due to nerves. Marcus had apparently anticipated that, because he slid another blue bottle across his desk. "Then drink that and eat."

"I couldn't..." Katie began weakly.

"Drink the damn potion and eat something," Marcus snarled. Frightened, Katie snatched the bottle and drank its contents quickly. "I couldn't finish everything on this tray anyway," he said, waiting for the effects of the potion to kick in.

"Oh," Katie said. The fear was starting to ebb. "I wasn't thinking when I put the tray together."

"Obviously. Sit and eat."

Katie sat down beside him and daintily picked at the food Marcus shoved at her to eat. "You're not going to kill me, then?"

"Why in Merlin's name would I do that?" Marcus asked, startled.

"Two of the other muggleborns are dead," Katie said flatly.

He frowned deeply at her. "You have no idea what I do here."

"Nope. None," Katie agreed, shrugging. "But you're angry, and then someone dies."

The frown didn't leave his face. "I didn't kill them."

"They're dead. I saw the smoke and it smelled like roasting meat," Katie told him, voice flat. "There's no point in lying about it."

Marcus looked angry when he heard that, but Katie merely looked back at him with an open expression. There was no fear, no anger, no worry. She felt nothing, and it took him a moment to recall that. "I test potions. They were infected with various diseases. I was testing potions, and on two occasions, the test doses weren't enough to save them."

"Oh." Katie nibbled on another bit of food. "I thought you killed them." She took in Marcus' stony expression. "It was one of the two things muggleborns are good for, as far as _he_ was concerned," Katie said with a careless shrug.

"I don't think I like how you are with this potion," Marcus grumbled. "I prefer it with you silent."

Katie's mouth snapped shut and she shrugged. If he had said so sooner, she wouldn't have bothered to speak her mind. She had thought he _wanted_ to know. She was silent as he finished the meal and ordered her to the exam table to look at her back. He seemed somewhat discomfited as she clambered up , and it was only when her back was exposed that he spoke. "I don't want you comparing me to that bastard Nott," he said finally. "I'm nothing like him."

"Oh. I'll try," Katie murmured. "It's easier when I'm not afraid of you, though."

"What? Why are you afraid of me?"

"It's probably best if I don't answer. You didn't like it when I talked before," she murmured, her head pillowed on her arms.

"This time, I'm asking."

"You don't say anything," Katie replied softly. "You just stare, and it's hard to tell what you're thinking. You look angry all the time, so I'm left wondering if that's the moment you change your mind and decide to kill me. Or decide to do the other things."

"Other things?" Marcus echoed, his hands stilled on her back.

"Nott said it was all I was good for," Katie murmured, letting her eyes fall closed. "It's all he ever said. And it's not like I could stop you if that's what you wanted to do."

Marcus resumed rubbing the salves onto her back. "True. But that's not why you're here. It's just to test potions."

"That's good to know."

In silence, Marcus finished rubbing the salves into her back. "Two more days of this should do it. Adrian will be back tomorrow to check how it's progressing."

"Thank you," she murmured as he buttoned the back of the robe. She could feel his eyes on her back as she left the lab, but it likely wouldn't lead to as much worry as it had earlier.

***  
***


	3. Discovering A Loophole

If Adrian felt bad about ripping open Katie's back with his spell, he gave no indication during his diagnostic spells. Katie was given the salves twice a day for a week, just to be sure that the scars healed over properly. She wasn't always given the blue potion; it seemed to depend on how irritated Marcus was with Katie's fearful behavior. For at least a week after that, Katie went through the motions of the housekeeping job she had been assigned. It was sometimes easy to get lost in the work, but at other times she found herself remembering being locked in a cell in Nott's basement or looking at the outbuilding and wondering what was happening to the remaining muggleborn people that Marcus was using to test his potions.

"Wear the sleeveless robe tonight after dinner," Marcus said when Katie brought him his lunch. He didn't say anything when her hand shook slightly as she set out his tray, and she left after nodding at him.

Her fear was getting the better of her; Marcus had said he was nothing like Nott, that he only intended to test potions on her. But what if?

Marcus only nodded at the exam table when Katie hesitantly came down the steps into the basement. Adrian was frowning over a set of notes in a folder, his wand clutched tightly in his hand. Marcus was adjusting a small flame beneath a beaker on a stand. They completely and utterly ignored her fear and didn't seem to care about her presence one way or another. She got onto the exam table and laid down on her stomach, clenching her teeth to keep them from chattering. She kept her eyes open, though. She wasn't going to be able to see much, but it was better to have _some_ indication if things were going to change in their treatment of her.

"It really shouldn't have had _that_ much effect," Adrian said finally. "I know what your notes say, but really..."

"I can do simple diagnostics well enough by now." Marcus' tone brooked no argument. He had an assortment of jars on his desk. "We'll try a number of these variants I've made. I'll try them all tonight. I don't want to lose two weeks every time I do a field test because her back is cut open again by that spell."

Adrian frowned at his cousin. "Marcus..."

"Supposed to or not, it happened. I'd prefer if it didn't happen again."

Adrian grunted, and moved out of Katie's line of vision. He tugged at the buttons at her back. "This is new."

"She didn't appreciate my tearing the thing the other day," Marcus said, bringing the jars over to the exam table. "This does make things easier."

"Praising a mudblood?" Adrian taunted. "Will wonders never cease?"

Marcus practically growled, and pushed Adrian's hands away from Katie's back. He slathered on the different salves in thick stripes across her back, and she could feel the differences in consistency between each salve. Most made her skin feel cool and numb as well. She tucked her face into the crook of her arm as she heard Adrian move backward and away from the table. "You should tilt the damn table. That makes it easier to cast," he complained.

"Just cast the damn spell. You'd have to do it this way at Mungo's. Just get it over with."

Adrian cast the spell, and to Katie's relief she didn't feel the burning, stinging pain as she had two weeks before. She picked her head up slightly and turned to see their expressions. Adrian was thoughtful, and Marcus had a single eyebrow raised. "You've been tinkering after all," Marcus mused. "It worked much better this time."

"The scar tissue must have been too thin," Adrian agreed. "That's the only thing that makes sense. I mean, I know how to handle scars."

Marcus took a few damp cloths to clear the salve remains from Katie's back. "Interesting. There's also the arms and chest, you know. Think you can vary the strength of your spells?"

Adrian ran his finger along Katie's paraspinal muscles. She clenched her teeth to keep from recoiling at his touch. "It shouldn't be too hard, now that I know what works."

"Sounds good. Malfoy's coming by tomorrow with his report. Did you want to sit in on it?"

"What do I care about her background now? It would've been helpful in the first few days. At this point, I've done enough daily checks to have a good idea of baseline functioning." Adrian shrugged. "You can give me the short version if you like."

Katie was allowed to return upstairs after that, and she wondered what Malfoy would have to report about her. She wasn't sure exactly where or when this meeting would take place, and she wasn't sure she wanted to be around anyway.

The meeting was the next day in Marcus' office, spelled shut and silenced for confidentiality. Draco arrived via floo directly into the office and shook off his cloak. "Sorry about how long it took, mate. They wanted to check my Interpol credentials a few times in the beginning, and then I was called to investigate a series of murders in Ireland."

"What the bloody hell for? You don't do ordinary cases."

"Who said this was ordinary?" Draco asked, lofting an eyebrow at Marcus. He settled down across the desk and handed over a thick folder. "Here. This is Katie Bell's file. It includes all of the official stories, as well as my own investigation and theories."

Marcus set it down on his desk. "What do you mean, theories?"

Draco looked at the file with an almost disappointed air. "Someone could have fucked up. She might not be a muggleborn at all."

_"What?"_

Draco waited for Marcus to start paging through his work, to see if he would find the dots and draw the same connecting lines that he had. Katie Bell had been victimized a few times by Death Eaters, himself included. That had been an accident that Draco still deeply regretted. Things were not entirely what they seemed in the Wizarding World, but he wasn't ready to turn everything upside down just yet.

For his part, Marcus read quickly but thoroughly. Some snippets about her home life before she was sent the Hogwarts letter at eleven. Her Hogwarts record, her OWLS and NEWTS, her medical record, her Quidditch scores, known associates until her disappearance following the Battle at Hogwarts. Marcus slowed down and read with more interest the compilation of reports about Katie's abduction a year ago. The muggle forensics team had gone over the flat with a fine toothed comb. The bodies of her older brother and mother were there, brutally raped and tortured. Katie had been missing, but blood stains, hair and a torn part of a shirt were clues that she had not escaped unscathed. The muggle police had looked for any sign linking Katie's apparent kidnapping to any of their known felons, but had come up empty. Marcus could fill in the rest with what he knew of Nott's treatment of her. Draco had a few things down for that, and Marcus had to admire the succinct way Draco described the girl's torture.

Marcus finally looked up. "I don't see it."

"I noticed something about her birth date," Draco offered, prodding him along.

"November 1979," Marcus read aloud, flipping to the front of the file. "So?"

"It was before the end of the first war between the Order and our Lord," Draco said patiently. "Doesn't that get you wondering how a muggleborn could possibly have magic?"

Marcus was about to open his mouth and snarl "Get to the fucking point already" when he suddenly saw Draco's point. He looked back over the snippets of Katie Bell's home life. He had glossed over it before, thinking it irrelevant. Her biological father according to her birth certificate and all public muggle records was Edward Bell, who divorced Katie's mother when she was four months pregnant. Katie's mother didn't contest the divorce, didn't get any financial support and moved away from the town she had lived in all her life with her son Wesley. Then she gave birth to Katie.

Marcus looked up at Draco, tapping the file impatiently. "All right. I think I see what you're getting at. Fucking needle in a fucking haystack, if you ask me."

"I always find the needles," Draco replied with a grin. "But you see where I was going with that? I had to be certain before I brought you the file."

"Perfectionistic bastard," Marcus agreed. "So? What have you got?"

"I cross referenced all of the Death Eater raids and excursions between February and April 1979. Trust me, it was a lot of records to comb through."

Marcus frowned. "There were _records?_ Whatever for?"

"Of course there were records. There are _always_ records. That's what Travers is for. He's the record keeper." Draco leaned back in his seat and breathed a sigh. "All records, good or ill. Trust me on that one, too. Not everyone gets to see them."

"Cut to the chase, Malfoy."

"Nott and Lestrange were heading the raids on the little muggle village that the Bells were living in. And nine months later, little Katie Bell is born."

If Marcus had eaten anything yet, he would have been ill. "Nott?"

"Small world, isn't it?" Draco agreed with a sharp nod. "Listen, it's up to you what to do with all of that," he said, indicating the folder of information. "This can die here, and it's simply speculation. She's registered as a muggleborn, and that's all she's known as. If you change her status, that would involve getting either man to accept her as his daughter, processing the paperwork and setting things to rights for her in the Registry. I've included that in the back of that folder if you wanted to do that." He watched Marcus' stunned expression. "I know how you feel about blood status, Marcus," Draco said quietly. "I'd be doing you a disservice if I didn't tell you the truth."

"I've already gotten Nott written up for his shoddy practices. He'll never admit to fucking his own daughter and torturing her."

Draco didn't wince at Marcus' blunt tone. He was used to that and worse by now. "I'm not telling you what to do with it, Marcus. You're a friend, and I trust that you'll do what's right for your situation. You don't need it spoon fed."

But it practically was, wasn't it? Nott had a son and would never want it known that he had done horrible things to his daughter and sold her as a common muggleborn harlot.

Lestrange, on the other hand, had no children. After Bellatrix's death, he had never remarried. He was just a hair too crazed for most Pureblood mamas to want to sink their matchmaking hooks into him, so it was exceedingly unlikely that he would ever have issue. His estates would revert to the Ministry and to Voldemort. Centuries of Lestrange lands and properties, gone and never to be returned. For a man as deeply attached to his family lines as Lestrange was, it had to be a bitter realization. His wife had been more dedicated to Voldemort than to him, and now everything he had was going to go to the Dark Lord.

Marcus nodded and locked the folder in a drawer. "Thank you. I've a lot to think about."

Both men rose and shook hands over the desk. "I wish I had better news for you," Draco told him honestly. "At least there was nothing like this in any of the other purchases."

"That's good at least." He hesitated a fraction. "Your children are doing well?"

"Yes, and so is their mother," Draco said with a smile. "You _can_ speak to her about my affairs when I'm out of the country, you know. She's well aware of what I do and what's going on. She could have gone over this with just as well as I have."

Marcus shrugged. "A family of blood traitors like that... I know you're above that kind of corruption, but not many men are. I don't know if the risk is worth the children you've got."

"Ginny and I have a history," Draco replied easily. He was used to the question, and it was not the first time this topic had come up. "She also has a history with our Lord. And if anyone still questions her, she still carries my mark."

"Everyone knows she's faithful to you," Marcus acknowledged. "But they don't trust her not to indoctrinate your children or try to plot against our Lord."

"Underneath that brash Gryffindor exterior, she's quite practical," Draco said, shrugging. "I'm technically still single, but no one's made any move to strike up an alliance."

"Because they know you won't touch her while you've got Ginevra." Marcus laughed and shook his head. "No woman is that stupid. I can't imagine being tied down at this point, but I suppose it's inevitable."

"For someone supposedly on the market, you've been hiding in your lab," Draco pointed out. "My mother thinks you'll never get married at this point."

"She should be occupied with grandbabies, not society marriages. Or lack thereof," he said with a wry smile.

"Mum thinks everyone is happier coupled off. Rather old fashioned of her, really. I tried telling her that you were in love with your potions, but she didn't buy that one for an instant."

"Thanks, mate. But the social whirl doesn't appeal. It's nothing but bullshit and lying about things that aren't even important to get just a kiss on the back of the hand. What a sodding waste."

Draco laughed. "Not everyone thinks it's appropriate to have a shag in the back gardens and then pluck the weeds to use as potions ingredients."

Marcus smiled ruefully at Draco. "So they're still talking about that one?"

"Nothing to replace it with," Draco pointed out. "But you've been hiding out in your labs over the past two and a half years. Elora would want you to get married." He held up his hands at Marcus' glower. "I miss her, too, mate," Draco said quietly. "She was good with Ginny and my Mum and didn't let you be such a miserable bastard. She'd be upset with how things have gotten for you. Though, the house looks better than that last time I was here. Have you actually started taking care of it again? That's a good sign."

"Bell does housekeeping duty when I'm not testing salves on her."

Draco nodded slowly. "Worth keeping, then. Anyway, you and Adrian are welcome at the Manor. He's here or at Mungo's and doesn't see anyone but you and Marinda Gatling. Maybe Vaisey, if you believe the rumors." He shrugged. "Just don't drop out of sight completely, will you?"

"I'll think about it," Marcus said, taking down the protective wards on his office. That effectively ended the conversation. "Thanks for the dossier. I'll go over it in more detail later. I have some thinking to do."

Draco nodded again and showed himself out. Marcus certainly did have a lot to think about, and Draco wasn't sure what he would decide to do. They had been closer once, but Marcus' young bride Elora Montague had died of a particularly vicious strain of griffin flu that she hadn't been treated for. By the time anyone realized what was happening with her, she was already dead. The Flint home was placed under quarantine for a full month, and Marcus hadn't been allowed to attend the funeral. Everyone knew he had blamed himself for Elora's death, as he had been working with various flu strains in his lab. If he washed up a bit better, used a different kind of rune in the house protections...

Sometimes things just didn't make sense. The only thing that did was potions, and Marcus threw himself into his work. He was so focused that it was easy to forget that he hadn't always been such a surly bastard, that once he had almost been sociable. Elora hadn't been some kind of society butterfly, but she had drawn him out into the right parties and helped him secure benefactors and funding for his research. Without her, he was left with whatever grants he had already applied for.

Draco apparated home. His friend would sort himself out eventually. He couldn't grieve forever.

***

"I believe we may be of some help to each other," Marcus began, looking at Rodolphus Lestrange over his glass of brandy.

The older man was reed-thin, with streaks of white shot through his dark hair. He had brown eyes and sharp, aquiline features. Marcus had a hard time seeing anything of Katie in his face, but she seemed to have taken after her mother's features. "And what is that?"

"I seem to have acquired a girl that may be your daughter," Marcus said, cutting right to the chase. He didn't enjoy drawn out cat and mouse games. He liked to dive right in and not deal with bullshit. It was another reason to avoid society balls and bureaucratic nonsense at St. Mungo's and work out of his own lab.

Lestrange blinked slowly. "Indeed?" he asked after a moment. "And how, pray tell, did you figure this out?"

Marcus slid a photograph across Lestrange's desk. "As you know, I do experiments with potions, salves, creams, that sort of thing. My cousin and I have done this for years, and I purchase subjects from Ruisart Nott."

"Greedy bastard," Lestrange said, leaning back in his chair to observe Marcus. "Not part of my current set of friends, but then, most of that lot are dead now."

Dipping his head slightly in a gesture of respect, Marcus continued. "One of them is this girl," he said, pointing to the photograph. "Katherine Elizabeth Bell, listed as a muggleborn who had graduated from Hogwarts in 1997. I have all of my test subjects researched by Draco Malfoy. I can't trust them not to lie about their medical history or background to destroy my work."

Lestrange picked up the muggle photograph of Katie and traced the lines of her face with a fingernail. "Yes. They are quite angry at being rounded up and herded like cattle." He smiled, and it was not a pleasant smile at all. "What does this have to do with me?"

"Malfoy told me that nine months prior to her birth, you and Nott raped her mother."

He put the photo down on his desk. "Really?" He tapped his chin. "My nephew is a very competent investigator. And he's one of the few with access to Travers' files. It could very well be, if he says so."

Marcus took his calm demeanor as merely a thin veneer of normalcy. He was a cruel man and crazed in some ways. "There's no way for me to tell for certain, of course. But if she's a Halfblood and not a mudblood, I've been breaking the law. You see my concern."

Lestrange merely leveled a laserlike gaze at Marcus. "Why should I care? If she's considered a mudblood bitch, you could kill her and be done with it. No one else cares about those vile upstart pieces of trash." His voice was harsh, and Marcus remembered the stories about how a mudblood had taunted Bellatrix Lestrange at the Battle of Hogwarts.

"She might be your daughter."

"As you've said. She might be Nott's daughter, as well." Lestrange smiled at Marcus, but it was vicious and full of teeth. It was rather like a shark's smile, right before it bit off a limb. "But I'm the safer bet, aren't I?"

"Nott won't admit to fucking his virginal daughter and torturing her. It's generally frowned upon," Marcus replied evenly, only a trace of sarcasm in his tone.

"Oh, yes. Society. That travesty." Lestrange laughed. "Once they kowtowed to Lestranges. Once we _owned_ all of that highbrow lot. But a few too many years in Azkaban, and suddenly you're not loved anymore."

Marcus indicated the photograph again. "Whoever her parentage, Nott did quite a lot of damage. It's led me to a few avenues of research I wouldn't have gone down otherwise. Namely, scar removal and organ regeneration."

"Organ regeneration?"

"Like Skelegro, but for whole organs. That's much trickier."

"What did he remove?"

"A few things, really, but I believe his target was her uterus."

Lestrange smiled that sharp, uncomfortable smile. "Ruisart was a naughty boy, wasn't he?"

"I have a detailed physical exam that my cousin did at the time of our acquisition. It was enough to get his license as a dealer revoked."

The smile froze in place on Lestrange's face. "It was? It was _that_ bad?"

"Yes. He wouldn't have gotten into as much trouble if he simply kept her for himself rather than sell her off in a lot with other test subjects. Her condition was so degraded I had to find a separate room for her to recover from the wounds. My contract had called for five healthy mudbloods of mixed ages and gender, to serve as a cross section of the population. Some minor scrapes or bruises are to be expected. Extensive scarring, organ removal, infection and trauma aren't part of my contract."

"Well, perhaps for certain... collectors." Lestrange looked down at the photograph. "She was a pretty girl before."

"I've been fixing her. Physically, at least." Marcus swirled the brandy in his glass. "The scar removal techniques are almost perfected. I'm having trouble with some of the stubborn burns on her arm, but they were deep enough to char muscle." Lestrange looked up sharply from the photograph in his hands. "I'm almost ready to try the organ repair potions."

"Growing back a womb? How very special for you."

"It will need to be tested, of course," Marcus said evenly. He had this conversation with Adrian just that morning, and his cousin had shouted that he had gone out of his mind. Adrian didn't appreciate just how little Marcus cared for society, and Adrian couldn't fathom why Marcus would have to conduct experiments to this degree of accuracy.

But Lestrange made the connection quickly, and burst out laughing. "And now we get to how you benefit from this."

"You get a daughter. An heir for your family name, someone that would be tied to you. I get someone of pure enough blood to produce heirs."

"Have you fucked her yet?"

Marcus looked insulted and vaguely disgusted. "I don't use slaves that way."

"Your lot is a bit more... reserved, shall we say? Sometimes it's amusing. It's sport. It's muggle-baiting. It's getting a fuck because your wife is a cold bitch that would rather hang off the Dark Lord's robes than do her duty to have children." Lestrange's face was twisted up in anger, though Marcus knew it wasn't directed at him. "Make no mistake, we know just how diseased and spoiled muggles are, but they have their uses. No need to get so high and mighty."

"It's not my taste," Marcus replied with a shrug. "I don't appreciate the assumption I'm like Ruisart Nott."

Lestrange laughed, an unpleasant but not angry sound. His mercurial moods were difficult to navigate, but Marcus kept his temper in check. If Lestrange didn't choose to accept Katie as his bastard offspring, there was no point in even attempting to reconstruct her internal organs. He would never touch her if she was muggleborn.

"I'll need to see her, of course. I don't remember every woman I've raped, but maybe if I see her I'll be able to see if she's mine." Lestrange grinned at Marcus. "And if she's mine, I'll give her to you as a brood mare. Fair trade for finding her for me." His eyes narrowed to slits. "And of course I'll need to take the matter up with Nott. He was supposed to dispose of our playthings when we were done. He did a sloppy job, and I'll have to clean up his mess again."

Marcus nodded, keeping his mouth shut. "When do you want to see her?"

The flash of teeth in Lestrange's smile set Marcus' spine on edge. "Now is good."

***

Katie's nightmares were full of hands reaching for her. She woke with a gasp, and headed straight for the attic as soon as she woke up. She tucked herself into the eaves, right next to the window. She held herself tightly to keep from shaking, and simply looked out over the grounds around the Flint house. Summer was starting to fade into autumn, and the leaves were already starting to turn.

Since that first successful attempt at healing the scars on her back, Marcus had Adrian work on her arms. The sleeveless robe worked well enough for that, and it seemed strange to look at her arms in the bath and not see the thick whip scars any longer. The burn marks were proving to be more resistant to Adrian's spells, and changing the consistency of the salves or creams beneath the spell hadn't made too much of a difference. The burn marks remained, though Katie thought that the skin seemed less angry-looking after their treatments.

Katie uncurled herself and pulled the sleeves back on the drab gray robes. She wasn't entirely sure how she felt about the clear skin there. The scars had been there for nearly a year now, and she almost felt as if they were a badge of pride. For all that Ruisart Nott had done to her, she hadn't died. For all that she was still miserable and couldn't think about the trauma, she survived. She was a survivor, and being the test subject for Marcus and Adrian's mad experiments was nothing in comparison. It didn't stop her from being afraid in the meantime, but deep down, she knew that she had lived through the worst part already.

The skin at her wrist was soft and matched the skin at the back of her hand. It was as if she had never been scarred at all. The physical reminder of her past terror was gone now. It only existed in nightmares and flashbacks and startling at sudden movements or sounds. It existed in the burn marks on her upper arms that refused to go away.

The attic beams began to creak in that way they did just before dawn. Katie uncurled herself the rest of the way and pulled her sleeve down. She had a long day ahead of her. They were all long days, full of repetitive and dull housework and the occasional field test.

But on this day, it was different.

There was a tall, thin man with sharp features entering the parlor where she was dusting the mantel. He was dressed entirely in black, which only accentuated his pale skin and white streaks in his hair. His fingers were long and bony, clasped in front of him. The smile on his face was probably meant to be reassuring, but it only served to make Katie's spine crawl and her breath to catching in her throat. She tried to tamp down on her panic, but that gaze on her was _hungry,_ and it reminded her too much of Nott's attentions. She edged backward, duster in hand. It was useless as a weapon, and she had no magic to use in her own defense.

Marcus stepped into the room. "That's her."

Katie was nearly choking on her panic when the thin man stepped forward and grasped her face with his bony fingers. He turned her face in various directions, as if appraising a jewel. When Nott had shared her, they simply seized her and did what they wanted. They didn't do this sort of appraisal, didn't make her feel so small and insignificant. Anger and disappointment flared. Marcus had promised he wasn't going to use her this way, and she had trusted him. She had actually trusted a Death Eater. That was stupid of her. That was probably going to get herself killed in the outbuildings one day.

But the man's smile softened just a fraction, just enough that the appraisal seemed to have a different edge to it. "I remember that look. I _do_ remember those eyes." He tilted Katie's face again, painfully holding her jaw tightly. She tried to suppress a wince, but he cruelly laughed at the gasp when it came out. "Yes. I remember this. I remember your mother, girl."

Katie could barely breathe when he let her go. "My mother?" she choked. Her last memory of her mother was her dark hair spread on the floor, her green eyes staring up at the ceiling in a glassy stare. Blood was everywhere, her clothes shredded and the skin full of deep gouges where she had been pinned to the floor with knives.

The man stepped back a few paces and nodded at Marcus. "You can have what you want, Flint. I'll sign the papers." He moved back and peered at Katie's frightened, pale face. "You look just like your mother." He stroked her cheek almost tenderly. "But you're here. You've lived, despite Ruisart's efforts." He looked almost proud of her. "Yes, I accept you as my daughter."

The massive fireplace was the only thing keeping Katie upright as the two men left the room. She wasn't as important as the paperwork that had to be filled out, and that was fine with her. She couldn't figure out who the thin man was, why Marcus was involved or why it mattered if she was that man's daughter or not.

She remained where she was after the man left the house. It was a weird sort of waking dream. Eventually, she would wake up and this nightmare would be over. She would be back home, Wesley would complain about Gloria and the seminars he had to take at university. She would complain about her stupid job as a shop girl, and her mother would chide her and remind her that it was wonderful simply to be alive.

Her mother, who had died screaming and begging for Katie's life, screaming for Wesley to take Katie and run.

Katie was still in the parlor when Marcus returned an hour later, looking for her. He simply stood there, taking in her stunned expression. She still didn't understand what was happening, and she flinched when he approached her. "What was that about?" she asked, her voice somewhat hoarse.

"As it turns out, you're a halfblood, the bastard daughter of Rodolphus Lestrange."

She tried to picture that, but failed. Growing up, she had known that her parents had divorced before she was born. She was Wesley's younger sister, the one that always seemed to get scrapes on her knees and run faster and farther than the other children on the estate. She was the one who made glass shatter when she was angry.

"Who's he?" she asked finally, not sure if she even wanted to know.

"Someone from a very long and very pure bloodline. He's important in the Death Eater ranks. He fought in both wars." Marcus grasped her by the back of her neck. "He's shown you considerable mercy, accepting you as his daughter. He didn't have to."

"I know who I am," Katie replied. Her voice carried a tremor, but that didn't stop it from being true. "I don't need you to tell me."

Marcus smiled thinly, and it didn't reach his eyes. For some reason, it chilled her to the bone. "On the contrary. Without my intervention, you're nothing. I've brought your existence to his attention, and Lestrange is kind enough to accept you as his daughter."

"What do you get out of it?" she asked, and wondered if she could really be that bold with him standing over her like that.

Now his smile held teeth, and he seemed even more menacing than before. "You'll see soon enough." He nodded at her almost mockingly. "Bring my dinner to the lab tonight."

He was alone when she did. She stood there beside his desk, as he hadn't dismissed her. She'd tried leaving once prior to a dismissal and he had pulled her back into place by the back of her neck. It had caused a panic attack, and he had simply stood over her while she gasped for breath. "You do as I say," he had said in a bland tone of voice. "You _only_ do as I say."

Marcus pushed the food away after he had eaten half of it. He rose and stood next to her, then reached out and touched her chin much in the same way that Lestrange had done earlier. "I wonder what he sees," he murmured, turning her face in one direction and then another.

"I'm the same as I was before," she replied, trying to sound a little bolder than she felt. Her breath hitched, however, and Marcus grinned at her false bravado.

"Of course you are," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Now take off that robe and get on the table. Adrian should be here any minute, and I want to see if this new formula will take care of that burn on your ribs."

There were fewer scars on her front than her back, but there were still marks where the whip had curled around her torso and the brand had been pushed into her skin. Katie shivered when she pulled off the robe and was clad only in knickers. Marcus wasn't paying particular attention, so she held the robe against her breasts as she headed to the table. She was still bony and thin, but she couldn't tolerate the thought of being so exposed in front of him.

He pulled the robe away from her easily enough, of course. Marcus was putting the new salve over the remnants of her burn scars when Adrian strolled into the lab. "You're late," he said, not bothering to look up.

"I had paperwork," Adrian returned, shrugging. "It's only a half hour, anyway. Let's get started."

The new salve and the repair spell _burned_ almost as badly as the brand had, and Katie screamed as she tried to jerk her body away from the spell. She fell off of the exam table and nearly convulsed with pain. It was hard to tell if the pain at her temple or her ribcage was worse.

"Fucking hell, Marcus," Adrian snapped. "I thought you tied her down."

"What for? I didn't need to yesterday," he grumbled. He picked her up easily and laid her back on the exam table with an expression of disgust. "Well? How much damage did that cause?"

"Superficial," Adrian said, healing the cut at the temple. He examined the burn mark on her torso carefully. "I heard Lestrange filed paperwork at the Ministry's Pureblood Registry," he commented, leaning over Katie's body.

"He's accepted her as his bastard daughter," Marcus intoned. "Well? Did it work or not?"

"It might need time," Adrian said after a moment. "But it does look different than before. Hold out her arm, and I'll try it without the salve."

Katie had been dazed by her fall, but the pain in her arm cut through it quickly. She screamed, yanking at her arm to free it from Marcus' tight grasp. Writhing in pain on the exam table, she flailed with her other arm and legs. She kicked Adrian before he could step out of the way fast enough, and wound up falling off of the table again. Because Marcus was holding onto her arm, he quickly pulled her back up. It felt as though he had pulled her arm out of its socket.

"This is why you tie them down," Adrian wheezed, shaking his head. "Lestrange's daughter or not, this is no way to have working conditions."

"Fine. I'll hold her down while you examine the arm. We're about done here tonight anyway."

Sobbing, Katie had to endure the examination spells that Adrian cast. Her torso and arm felt as though they were on fire, and the spells raked over the sensitive skin. She couldn't even hear Adrian's comments, though he had a disgusted curl to his lip. She couldn't tell if the spell had gone wrong or if it wasn't healing quickly enough for his tastes. Marcus let go of her shoulders when Adrian left the room, muttering the entire time. He watched her curl up on the exam table with an unperturbed expression. "Can you walk?" he asked, his tone detached and clinical.

"I don't know," she sobbed. Her skin hurt, and for a moment she thought she was in the dank cell in Nott's basement. "I don't know what you want from me," she wailed, squeezing her eyes shut. She didn't want to see his blank face. Nott's superior grin kept superimposing itself over everything, and she wanted to vomit.

Marcus picked her up, surprisingly gentle despite pinning her down on the exam table. He brought her to her bedroom and deposited her on the bed without a word before shutting the door.

Katie looked at it, confused and dizzy and unable to move past her pain. She would have to puzzle it out later.

***  
***


	4. Experimentation

Feeling somewhat queasy still when she awoke, Katie took a shower in one of the downstairs bathrooms. She leaned against the tile and looked at her arm, frowning when the skin of it didn't look quite so horridly burned. She would have to check the mirror to see her torso, since the curve of her breast blocked her view of her ribcage.

Marcus was there when she pulled the curtain back to step out of the shower. Shrieking in fright, Katie leapt back against the shower stall. "What are you doing?" she cried, trying to reach out to pull the curtain across her body for modesty.

He'd seen it already, when she was in a weaker and more starved state. She'd filled out in the three months since he purchased her from Ruisart Nott. "I need to look at those scars," he said, seemingly unperturbed by her rising panic or the fact that he was standing in the bathroom and demanding to look at her naked body.

"I'm in the shower," Katie replied, feeling almost dizzy. "I'll show you later..."

"I'll have paperwork and meetings out of the house later," Marcus intoned, drawing the shower curtain aside. "Let me see your skin." His tone was not that of a request, and Katie reluctantly let go of the shower curtain. His eyes raked over her torso, taking in the scar location. He pulled her arms away from her chest and inspected the skin of her inner forearms, running his calloused fingers over the skin there. It looked new and fragile, and was hypersensitive to his touch. He looked up when she shivered, meeting her frightened eyes with his cool ones. "Turn around."

"But you didn't--"

"Turn around," he repeated. His voice was smooth but dangerous, and Katie complied with a gulp of fear. She braced herself against the smooth tile of the shower, her eyes sliding closed. She could barely breathe as his hands swept across her back, pushing her wet hair over her shoulder. His fingers traced the smooth skin there, going over the places where every scar had been not that long ago. Katie bit her lip at his touch and tried to tell herself that he didn't want to use her for sex. He was only examining the skin. He only cared about how effective his potions were. He only wanted a test subject. He wasn't Ruisart Nott.

She breathed a sigh of relief when he pulled his hands away. "When you're dressed, come to my office. I've already eaten, so don't bother with breakfast. We have things to discuss."

When Katie arrived at his office, she was dressed in the long sleeved robe with her damp hair left loose. She hadn't even eaten herself, and she stood in front of Marcus' desk with her hands clasped in front of her. She was aware that she looked like a frightened servant, but maybe he enjoyed that look.

He had a bottle of viscous green goo for her to drink, which tasted awful. It was some kind of "preparation" potion, and the actual experiment would take place that evening. It certainly did nothing for the anxiety she was feeling. Marcus didn't explain what the upcoming experiment would be, though he certainly seemed tense about it. He pointed to a chair opposite his desk, intoning "Sit down." Katie did, feeling a sense of dread wash over her. Attention was bad. She definitely liked it better when Marcus paid her no attention at all. "Lestrange is filing the paperwork to legally change your status from mudblood to halfblood," Marcus began, leaning back in his chair. Katie didn't think it was the careless move it was meant to look like. "It will take some time before that is cleared by the Ministry."

He seemed to expect her to say something in response. "That doesn't change who I am," she said finally. "I'm the same person I was yesterday."

Marcus seemed to expect that, and his thin smile was almost unnerving to see. "I'm sure you believe that," he said, a touch condescending. "But the law is the important part of this equation. Whatever you think you are doesn't matter nearly as much as what you're recognized as."

Katie wrapped her arms around herself, but she still felt chilled. "So now what? You stop experimenting on me?"

"On the contrary. I'm about to do the most important one." She looked at him in confusion. "You're aware you're missing organs?"

She flushed angrily. "That's not something to make fun of."

Now his smile was genuinely amused. "Oh, I don't make fun of that at all. I'm going to restore what's been taken away." He was utterly confident in his abilities. Considering her deeper scars were much less noticeable, that confidence was likely well earned. "By the time everything has grown back, the paperwork will have cleared, and then we can retroactively make you my wife."

Katie choked and jumped up out of her seat. _"What?"_

"By giving you a womb again, of course I'll want to test it," Marcus said blithely. "And I don't intend to ignore any child I sire and leave it a bastard. Lestrange and I have agreed on this."

"You... You have no right!" Katie cried, furious. She had her fists balled up at her sides. "You say I legally have rights. I don't accept you forcing this on me!"

Marcus simply laughed. "You don't accept it? When yesterday you had no rights whatsoever?" He took in her outraged expression and laughed harder. "Merlin, I forgot you're a Gryffindor. They've always been so terribly idealistic." He leaned forward and grinned when she took an instinctive step back. "Fine, then. Don't take my protection. You'll leave with your father, then. Have him dress you up in those saucy robes and tart you up to land a husband. Come up with excuses why you have burn remnants on your arm or why you haven't been presented before now." Marcus stood, a seemingly lazy action, and walked around his desk. Katie stood her ground, and he smiled at her, amused. "Oh, yes. You can let your father squire you about in society balls to get a properly Pure husband that will be willing to overlook your Halfblood bastard status. Then you can tell him a story why you're not a virgin anymore and why you can't give him children like you're supposed to. Oh, yes," he murmured, tilting her chin so that she had to look at him as he spoke. "I'm interested to hear what story you'll tell."

"Leave me alone," Katie said, backing away from Marcus. But he caught her arm and pulled her back against him. "Get away from me!" she cried, pushing at his solid chest. Tears sprang to her eyes and she could feel the panic build. "Let me go!"

"Perhaps I should have given you that anxiety potion? Hm? That way you would be able to realize that you're the one gaining the most from this arrangement we have."

She tugged at her arm and wiped at her eyes angrily with her free hand. "Let me go. I have things to do," she said, spitting the words out with as much venom as she could muster. "I need to go."

Marcus let her go abruptly, and she stumbled backward a few steps. She wasn't far away from the door, and she hovered in the doorway uncertainly. "Go do your chores," Marcus said, waving her off. "You have until evening. At that point, you _will_ be in the lab."

Katie thought of telling him to go to hell. But if he was telling her the truth, and he really had no reason to lie, that would get her nowhere. She either chose him and the future he clearly outlined, or the nebulous and far more terrifying prospect of being presented to Death Eater society as Lestrange's daughter.

She arrived at his lab at the usual evening time, her stomach tied into nervous knots.

Adrian was glowering at Marcus. "This is a phenomenally _stupid_ idea. Three quarters isn't good enough, you know that. What the fuck were you _thinking?!_ You're taking this experimentation thing way too far, Marcus," Adrian hissed. "I'd think it was a ploy on her end if I didn't know she was repulsed by you."

Katie froze when Marcus' eyes swung toward her as she stood at the foot of the stairs. "It's not just you," she said in a small voice. "All men."

"Now that we have that clarified," Marcus said in an icy tone, "start on something smaller. Try to repair the kidney."

Thankfully, this didn't require Katie to strip to her knickers. She stared at the ceiling and tried to keep her breathing even as Adrian did his requisite scan before going to work. When the spell hit, however, her back arched up off the bed and she cried out in pain. It was a tearing, ripping kind of feeling low in her belly, and she twisted to try to ease it. She gulped for air when Marcus slammed her back down onto the exam table. Despite having fallen off of it already, he still hadn't taken to tying her down as Adrian had told him to. There was a small part of her that wondered why, and if it had anything to do with Lestrange suddenly claiming her as his daughter.

There were tears running down her face when Adrian was done. "The cortex is back, at least. I'll check in the morning before rounds to see if the pyramids are back and functional yet."

Marcus nodded. "That's more progress than we thought we'd have. I can always increase the amount of available protein in the preparation mixture."

"Probably best. Everyone knows the consistency of bones, but the density of organ tissue varies. It would be better to overshoot the organ's mass than undershoot it."

Katie blinked back tears as Adrian did another scan. "Well, it seems to be stable for now, but we're only a minute out. We should probably wait and do a few more scans before moving her. If it's unstable, moving her will make everything revert back to the original protein bases."

It sounded like utter gobbeldygook, but they left Katie in peace as they tidied up the basement lab. The stabbing, tearing pain dulled into a low throb. Adrian scanned her again at five minutes, ten minutes, fifteen minutes and twenty minutes. "It's not as stable as I'd like at this point," he said in a huff. "But I should start getting ready for bed. I've an early shift in the morning."

"I'll do the scans, then. Every five minutes until we've hit an hour?"

"That should be good enough. I'll check in the morning before I go, and that should tell me how to adjust the spells."

Marcus shuffled papers a lot, and unerringly did the diagnostic spell every five minutes. Katie didn't know how long it was before the hour passed, but it felt as if he had gone much farther than that. "You should be all right to get up now," he said finally. He removed the torc around her neck with perfunctory movements. He made no other move to touch her, and his face held no expression whatsoever.

Katie nodded and suppressed the crazy urge to bid him goodnight.

***

"Merlin's balls, what the hell happened?" Adrian shouted, waking Katie from sleep. She opened her eyes blearily, feeling awful. She was chilled but almost numb in places, shivering and trying to figure out why her stomach hurt so much. Adrian stomped out of her pantry bedroom, and she curled up in bed as best as she could. Her stomach flared to life in pain, and she groaned helplessly.

Marcus showed up in sleep shorts, a scowl on his features. "She was fine when I concluded the tests," he was telling Adrian, standing in the doorway. "I watched for two hours, just to be sure."

"Moving must have done it, then." Adrian looked up at Marcus' bleary eyes. "So we're looking at four hours' worth of necrosis and sepsis. You can start the regimen, and I'll clear out as much of it as I can." He pushed Katie back into a supine position despite her groans of pain and began to create a complicated containment spell.

Marcus went to his lab for various potions he would have to give Katie to recover from this botched attempt. If this was what happened when trying to repair a small piece of an organ, he wasn't sure he would have wanted to see the results of an entire organ failing and turning to sludge within the body.

Katie slept fitfully throughout the day, twisting herself into knots to try to find a comfortable position. She remembered feeling Marcus's hands over her own, keeping her still as he did diagnostic spells throughout the day, or sitting by her bedside to force potions past her lips. By the time Adrian returned from his shift, Katie's fever had broken but she was weak and not quite out of danger yet.

She recovered slowly over the rest of that week, excused from whatever chores she had been supposed to do. The first time she felt strong enough to step outside of her room, Katie nearly fell over. Marcus had been in the kitchen at the time, rummaging about in the fridge. He dove and caught her, his old Chaser reflexes still present. "Don't get up if you bloody well can't stay up," he snarled at her, pushing her back to her feet.

Her eyes slid shut as she shivered. "I didn't know I couldn't until it happened. I thought I could walk to the loo."

It wasn't that far away from the kitchen, which didn't bode well for her recovery at all. Marcus frowned at her. "Just use the sodding bedpan. It's charmed to empty on the hour."

Katie nodded and wrapped her arms around herself when she shivered again. That kind of courtesy hadn't been extended to her during her stay at Nott's dungeons. Marcus likely didn't understand just how different he really was from Ruisart Nott.

He roughly guided her back to bed and poured another awful tasting potion down her throat. While she choked on it, she managed to swallow most of it and slide toward sleep. There was something off about Marcus' expression, something that almost resembled concern.

It was gone when she woke again, of course. She was lying on the exam table in his lab, staring at the basement ceiling. Katie idly wondered what the other muggleborns had to look at, and then the memory kicked in. Lestrange was claiming her as his daughter, and was making her a halfblood. Nothing had changed yet, though. It seemed more like a fever dream at this point.

Katie turned her head at the sound of rustling parchment. Marcus' back was to her, and he seemed to be making more potions at one of his workbenches. The basement was brilliantly lit, each workbench spotless. There was so much glassware in use to create potions that Katie's eyes crossed trying to count the different distillation sets. She turned her head and tracked his movement, feeling somewhat cold and numb. The pain in her abdomen was gone, though. She looked down and noticed that she was dressed in the same kind of gown as she had worn when at St. Mungo's, and she knew that Adrian worked there. Katie pulled the gown up and saw the thick poultice over her stomach and the thin muslin keeping it in place. Her breathing was a little heavier; she remembered the searing pain of the heated blade Nott had used to slice her open and pull out organs. She turned her head, looking around her in a panic, and saw Marcus had turned around to stare at her.

"Adrian removed the dead tissue. You'll be fine. I've even mixed in some of the scar repair salve into that poultice, so it shouldn't be too bad."

She wanted to ask him why he was doing this, but the words wouldn't form. She nodded and laid back down again, blinking back tears she refused to shed in front of him.

"He cleared out a lot of damage that was in there," Marcus continued in that same toneless voice. "That might have been part of the reason why it didn't take the first time."

"When are you going to try again?" Katie rasped.

"Not for a while yet," Marcus replied, turning back to his workbenches. "Not until you're healed back to baseline. I won't risk this again."

She wanted to ask why he seemed to care all of a sudden, but she thought she knew the reason. She wasn't legally a muggleborn anymore. She was a Halfblood, and they carried rights. He couldn't simply do what he wanted with her anymore. He couldn't let her die. Lestrange would probably torture him to death if that happened.

The next attempt occurred two weeks later, when she was feeling almost normal and both men felt they had a better grasp on why it had failed in the first place. Lestrange had visited in the meantime, all toothy smiles and promises to look after Katie's station properly. She couldn't help but cringe backward when Lestrange reached out to touch her face; for a moment, Nott's face had been superimposed on his. Lestrange withdrew his hand without a change in expression, though he seemed vaguely hurt. "He did quite a lot, I see," Lestrange had murmured, looking at Katie. "I should pay him a visit."

"I don't want to think about him," Katie had managed to say evenly. She was repressing the urge to cringe backward into the wall, to make herself as small a target as possible. "Please."

Something shifted in Lestrange's features at her quiet tone, and he nodded. "Well. I've missed quite a lot of your life, haven't I?" he said, moving to sit down in the parlor. He smiled at her, at it seemed almost fond. "Tell me what I've missed."

It was surreal. Katie used to have fantasies as a child of her father caring about her, wanting to know what her life was like. She had especially wanted to show off for him once she had been enrolled at Hogwarts. Look at me, she would have said. Look at what you missed out on.

Katie gingerly sat down across from Lestrange and kept her hands folded in her lap. Suddenly she forgot everything she wanted to say to Edward Bell. "It was just me and Mum and Wesley, my brother. It was the three of us growing up. She used to call us the Three Musketeers." Katie blinked rapidly, almost hearing her mother's voice in her ears. "She did her best by us. We never knew anything was amiss when I was little. I thought it was normal not to have a Dad. I didn't know any better until primary school. Kids made fun of us for not having enough, for not being good enough. Mum said we were better than they were. We were stronger and able to do so much more."

Lestrange leaned in forward, almost hungrily listening to her. "Tell me about her, your Mum. I didn't know anything at all about her."

"I look like her. I've always looked like her. People said we must have been sisters." Katie's throat closed up, and it was hard to say the words. "I didn't appreciate her like I should have."

"We never do," Lestrange agreed in a quiet tone. "I didn't know about you."

Katie looked over at him, at how _normal_ he looked. He didn't look like a craven murderer and rapist, though she knew he was capable of horrible things. "I used to hate him, the man I thought was my Dad. I hated him for leaving us, for not loving us enough. Now I know why."

"Your mother was a strong woman," Lestrange said, admiration clear in his tone. "I'm sorry I didn't know her."

And the strangest part of it was, Katie believed him.

She had overheard him and Marcus talking in his office. Marcus had been working on something, and Lestrange had walked in as if he owned the room. He tossed a golden key onto Marcus' desk, smirking when it knocked over a bottle of ink. "What the fuck, Lestrange?" Marcus had growled.

"My daughter's dowry. I had a visit with Ruisart this morning. Quite... _interesting,_ if you take my meaning. After all, the bastard had killed my daughter's family, taken her virginity, tortured her, tormented her and nearly killed her. She thinks every man is out to abuse her." Lestrange had smiled at Marcus, and Katie could imagine the malicious joy in it. "So yes, Ruisart paid quite well for what he had done to her. I won't be surprised if Theo has barely anything left once Ruisart dies. Now that Gringotts vault is yours as her dowry. I believe the paperwork sets your marriage date as of two months ago. Odd thing, these retroactive laws, isn't it?"

Marcus had gripped his quill with a white knuckled grip. "What do you mean?"

"For twenty-three years, I never knew I had a daughter. Now I have one. And now you've been married for two months." Lestrange's laughter was mirthless and cruel. "What's your wedding gift to the girl, Marcus? You've taken your mark away, I saw, but you still treat her as your slave."

"I'm _fixing_ things," Marcus had set through grit teeth. "I'm making things right."

She thought about that moment as she was lying on the exam table in Marcus' basement lab. Everything was changing so quickly now, it almost made her head spin. She'd swallowed down five of those awful potions Marcus had pressed into her hands, and she hadn't even asked him about the contents. It was probably best if she didn't know. Lestrange planned to visit her again, planned to get to know her. He'd promised a shopping trip and visits to Diagon Alley, as well as showing her the Lestrange properties she would inherit upon his death. Katie wasn't sure how she felt about his buying her attentions.

"All right. Let's see if we got the formula down well enough," Adrian said. "I'll start with the kidney, and we'll leave her here overnight, just to be sure. _If_ that works," he began, his tone clearly conveying he wasn't entirely sure it would, "then we can start on the uterus." He paused and looked up at Marcus. "You're still mental. Harriet Withersparke has good bloodlines and the chit doesn't have this kind of baggage. You've done your part for Lestrange. You don't need to tie yourself down like this."

Katie struggled to prop herself up on her elbows, but Adrian shoved her back down to the table without even sparing her a glance. "Oi!"

"Just lie back and keep your mouth shut," Adrian said, clearly irritated.

For an impossible moment, she thought it was Nott speaking to her, and her face whitened. Marcus rolled his eyes. "Brilliant move, Adrian. Terrify the terrified girl. Fantastic move, that."

"Not my fault she's scared of her own shadow," Adrian muttered, shaking his head. "Look, I'm ready to begin, now. Start the observation spells."

It started as a slow warmth low in her abdomen before flaring up into a white-hot heat. Katie cried out, but Marcus had her shoulders pinned down so she wouldn't move or fall off the table. Adrian admonished her not to move and to keep quiet, and she looked up at Marcus. "It hurts," she whimpered. "Can't you give me something so it doesn't hurt?"

"Not right now," Marcus said in an even voice. She could feel his fingers loosen a fraction on her shoulders, and his thumb brushed across the side of her neck. "It might interfere with the other potions I've given you." He held her in place as she writhed in pain. It hurt so much worse than the last time they had tried this, and she held the sides of the exam table in a white knuckled grip and grit her teeth to keep from screaming.

And then all of a sudden, it stopped.

She gasped, a thin sheen of sweat on her skin. "Is it over?" she asked in a small voice. She could feel Adrian's diagnostic spells running through her, almost like a shiver of cold. "What is it?"

"I think that did the trick," Adrian said finally. "This looks even more like normal tissue than the last time. Between the extra potions and the enforced bedrest, this might take this time." He looked over at Marcus. "She will have to stay here, of course. No going up and down stairs until I say so." Marcus nodded, his hands still tight on her shoulders, thumbs brushing against the sides of her neck.

It was silent in the lab after Adrian left. Marcus went to read journals he had brought to his desk, and Katie stared up at the ceiling. "What are you going to do with me?" she asked when she couldn't tolerate the silence any longer.

"What do you mean?" he asked, not even looking up from his journal.

"Lestrange says we're married," Katie said in a quiet voice.

"Yes, we are," he agreed, still not looking up from his journal.

"It would've been nice to be asked," Katie said tartly, lips compressed in a thin line. "It would be nice to be wanted for who I am and not just because I'm sodding convenient."

Marcus put the journal down and moved to stand over the exam bed. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes seemed to flash in annoyance. "You are hardly convenient, _Mrs. Flint._ Your bloodline is important enough to overlook how I found you, and _your father_ is making it worth our while. You'd hardly have any other prospects out in society."

"Maybe I don't want to be part of that society. Maybe I'd rather stay out of it."

He slid his hand from the curve of her jaw down the side of her neck, finally resting his hand over her sternum. "Your father won't let you. So it's me or someone else. And I can guarantee that someone else won't accept this from you."

"Accept what? I can't do anything to you. I don't have a wand, I don't have anywhere to go..."

His smile was mirthless and bitter. "You don't understand how things work. You've been away for too long." He brushed his fingers along the underside of her throat, seeing how discomfited it made her. He supposed Nott had choked her several times. "You see, your station in life is determined by your bloodlines. Your purity opens doors, and your connections can cement them. You're halfblood, but from a very ancient and noble house. Your muggle background can be overlooked in some circles. My bloodlines are old and Pure. Maybe not quite so monied, but just as pure and worthy as yours. The difference is, I'm willing to overlook your background. Others may not be so kind."

"Why? Why are you doing this?"

Marcus felt her pulse point leap as he ran his fingers across it. _Because I can,_ he almost said, but that wasn't entirely true. He could do a lot of things, and she was right. He didn't have to claim her as his wife to claim the child as his. He didn't have to be the one to test whether the grown womb worked. "I don't like casting about in society either," he said after a moment. It was part of the truth, and her eyes raked over his face. He stroked the side of her throat, noting the white knuckled grip on the bed. "I'm giving you my name," he said in a low tone. "I'm giving you protection. I'm giving you a future and a life."

"I _had_ a life," she said angerily. "It wasn't what I wanted, but it was _mine."_

"And it was stolen from you," Marcus agreed. "You can't get it back. I can give you a new one."

She had wanted to be loved when she got married. She had wanted to be blissfully happy about the event, wanted to have her Mum and Wesley tell her that her bloke was a good one, that their family was better off having him in it.

But that was gone now, never to return. Katie closed her eyes and turned her head away from Marcus. It didn't matter now. Nothing mattered now.

***

"You still do the housework in this place," Lestrange said, giving Katie a package of sweets. She smiled her thanks and sat down politely. "And you're still wearing those drab robes."

"They're still testing on me," Katie murmured, opening the package. Her fingers shook slightly. "If I throw up, it's best to do that on something I don't care about."

"Very practical of you," Lestrange said and smiled, and it was sharp and full of teeth. She imagined those teeth sinking into her mother's neck, those hands holding her down as he laughed in the face of her fear. Katie didn't trust him, didn't trust his motives and didn't want to be any closer to him than necessary. These visits he insisted on taxed her more than having Marcus' hands on her throat.

_I didn't grow up with much. There was no sense in wasting anything,_ she almost said, but it still hurt to think of her Mum or Wesley. She could still see their dead eyes staring at her as she clawed at Nott, as she screamed and tried to get away. Over a year later, and she had never really mourned properly.

Lestrange watched her carefully pick through the package of sweets. "I should take you somewhere," he said. "I should show you the Lestrange gardens, the ones my mother had built herself. She had quite an eye for color and form." He smiled, and Katie felt like a butterfly pinned on display. "You would have liked her."

She was saved from a reply by a knock at the parlor door. "Katie, it's time to take your potions."

Katie frowned at Marcus. "I ate," she said, indicating the box of sweets.

"That shouldn't be enough to matter," Marcus said with a dismissive wave.

"What's on the roster?" Lestrange asked, something ugly in his tone Katie couldn't name.

"Growing back the uterus. It's going to be tricky, but Adrian managed to reconstruct her kidney on the second attempt. She should be in recovery over the next few days in the lab."

Lestrange nodded and stood. "Well, then. I'll take you to the gardens when you've sufficiently recuperated. It'll be a lovely gift."

Katie nodded slightly. "Thank you." He showed himself out and she stood under Marcus' gimlet glare. "You can have the sweets. I'm not really hungry."

"No, you generally aren't," he agreed. He took the box from her and took her elbow. "Don't be too standoffish with him. That makes him angry."

She nearly stopped in her tracks in shock. "I don't know what to say. He's a stranger to me."

"Then tell him so. He's not fond of the silent treatment. He thinks it's arrogance."

"How do you know?" Katie challenged.

"I watched him kill someone for it," Marcus replied easily. He sat her down in the kitchen and pushed the box of glass bottles in front of her. There were at least twenty bottles of green goo, if not more. She pulled a face, but he simply unstoppered the first one. "Drink up. All of it."

It turned out to be two boxes of twenty bottles each, and Katie thought she was going to throw up. Marcus laid a heavy hand between her shoulder blades as she coughed and tried to work her mouth around the endless bottles. It was strange how that touch was comforting and terrifying at once. He handed her the package of sweets afterward, and she gratefully took one to wash the taste of the potions out of her mouth. Adrian arrived not long after she was settled comfortably on the exam table, grumbling to himself all the while. Katie kept her eyes closed and felt Marcus' hands come down over her shoulders and upper arms. He wasn't exerting pressure yet, but was preparing for when she inevitably wanted to launch herself up off the table.

The burn was awful, a grasping and twisting feeling deep and low in her belly. Marcus removed one hand long enough to get a metal stirring rod between her teeth, and Katie flailed. He caught her hands in one of his and pressed his other hand down on her sternum. She was making low guttural cries of pain, sounding more like a wounded animal than the lost girl he had purchased a few months ago. She opened her eyes at one point, as Adrian walked away muttering under his breath. Marcus moved his hand from her chest to her face, brushing the tears away with his fingertips. "It will pass," he said, voice quiet and strained. "It will get better."

She didn't know who he was trying to convince.

***  
***


	5. Making It Real

Tired and listing through the halls, Katie sank down to the floor near a bedroom on the third floor. She was allowed to go outside, as the torc had been the thing limiting where she was allowed to go. But she didn't know where anything was anymore. The thought of stepping outside of the house, of seeing the whole wide world outside of this house, was almost enough to trigger a panic attack. She knew how things worked inside the house. For all that he said her blood status was different, her role in the house hadn't changed. She was the housekeeper and the test subject. She was wrung dry of tears, her throat scraped raw by screaming from the pain of organ regeneration.

She could smell smoke, and moved to look out of the window. Black smoke was rising from the outbuilding; another muggleborn witch or wizard dead from the experiments. She supposed she was lucky she wasn't one of them.

Marcus found her in the early evening, still leaning against the window and looking toward the outbuilding. "So you know I lost another one today," he murmured from the doorway.

"How difficult for you," she replied, her tongue thick and bulky in her mouth.

Obviously displeased, Marcus nearly growled at her. "We're going for a walk."

He lifted her easily and guided her out of the room as if he was a gallant and she was a mademoiselle. He caught her when she stumbled on the threshold to the back porch, and didn't say anything when he helped her down to the grassy yard separating his home from the outbuilding. It seemed impossibly far, but they crossed the distance in little time at all. He didn't say anything, his face a stony mask. Katie wondered what he was thinking, then decided she didn't need to know.

Marcus was thinking that she needed to know what he actually did. Her situation was different and had been from the start. If things had been the way they usually were, she would have been placed in the outbuilding along with the others, exposed to diseases and testing new potion variants. Because of her situation, she was subject to much more painful tests than the others. He watched her face carefully as they walked through the observation hall. He had purchased another set of muggleborns, so that there were ten people. Each had their own little room, and there was a common room. Upon leaving their little bedrooms, a bubblehead charm was automatically placed over their heads and sterilization charms were set on their hands and clothing. That limited the cross contamination from one room to the next, as each subject was infected with something different. Katie's eyes were large, but her expression was unreadable as she watched them play cards together or read books quietly next to the window. It wasn't some kind of awful place, even if there was the risk of death.

She was still quiet when he brought her back out into the yard. "This isn't what you thought it was, is it?" he asked in a low tone.

"I suppose not."

Marcus stopped and cupped her face in his hand, his thumb near her mouth. Her eyes were wide and almost frightened, and she seemed poised to run. "Can't I kiss my wife?" he asked in an almost mocking tone. He had asked for this, he knew. After what she had been through, there was no way this would be easy. But he vaguely remembered her from school when he had looked through the dossier, the brunette spitfire that had taken the abuse on the pitch and kept coming back for more, as if to prove that the game shouldn't be different just because she was a girl. He had admired that spirit even as it was a pain in the ass to plan strategies against. Sometimes that spirit almost shone through; whatever Ruisart Nott had done, he hadn't completely destroyed her.

Katie's lips trembled and she backed up a half step. Marcus followed her, his face a careful blank mask. It wouldn't do to have his frustration show. He knew where she was coming from, after all. She had only known pain so far, and no one had shown her an ounce of kindness. At best, Marcus had been utterly indifferent. That was better than hatred, perhaps, but only just.

Marcus leaned down, lips hovering in front of hers for a fraction before pressing them against hers. She made a soft frightened noise, her hands fisted at her sides. Marcus kept one hand cupping her face and slid the other about her waist. His touch was light, and she could easily run from him if he overwhelmed her. But he kept the kiss shallow, only the press of lips gently against hers. They were soft and dry, the bottom lip with cracks in places. Marcus pulled back slightly and ran his thumb against that lower lip, seeing her blink back tears. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" he asked, his voice as gentle as he knew how.

"You said this wasn't why you wanted me," Katie whimpered. "You said..."

"Things change, don't they?"

"You weren't supposed to do this," she said, her voice cracking. "I can't... You can't..."

Marcus tightened his hand on her hip a fraction, and her voice shattered. She took a great shuddering breath, and suddenly Marcus wanted to kill Ruisart Nott, damn the consequences. "We're going back inside now."

She was relieved, but he didn't intend to let her simply go back and play housekeeper. Marcus led her up to his bedroom, and she painfully pale and skittish. "This isn't a good idea," Katie said, shaking her head. "I should go. I should get dinner ready..."

He was standing in front of the shut door to his bedroom, making no move to let her leave. "Stay. Take off your clothes," he told her. He realized after the fact that he probably should have said something different. She reacted as if slapped, jerking backward and nearly tripping over her own stockinged feet. He opened his mouth to say something else, maybe even to apologize for how that sounded, but she reached for the hem of the robe with shaking fingers.

Katie stripped down to the skin, shoulders hunched and head bowed. After a moment's hesitation, she laid down on the bed and spread her legs wide as she stared up at the ceiling. Maybe if she cooperated, it wouldn't hurt as much and it would be over quickly. Her lips trembled when she heard his growl, and she tried to spread her legs wider. She turned her face to the side and let her eyes fall shut to keep from sobbing.

The bed dipped as Marcus sat beside her. He laid a hand on the valley between her breasts. Her heart was beating at a rapid pace, and he could almost see her pulse leap in her throat. "I have never forced a woman in my life," he said in a low voice. "I have no intention of forcing you against your will," he began slowly, withdrawing his hand. "I can make you want this."

"Arrogant, aren't you?" she choked out, then bit her lip in fear.

"Sit up," Marcus sighed. Confused, she did so. "This isn't how I meant this to happen."

Katie swallowed nervously, but it felt like a lump had formed in her throat and her chest was tight. "Then what did you mean to happen?"

"I'll bed you, of course," he said, brushing her hair from her shoulders. "It would be more pleasant for us both if we could agree on that."

"I don't... I don't want to," Katie said in a small voice. "Please don't make me."

Marcus looked into her eyes. "He hurt you very much, didn't he?" She nodded, biting her lip. "I'm not him. I want you to understand that."

"I can't not remember," she whispered. "It's always there."

"I don't think it's right to take your memories of that away, though I almost wish I could," Marcus admitted. He touched the curve of her cheek gently, startling her. "If I do that, you lose your family. You lose a part of who you are."

"I thought you said I was a Lestrange," Katie said almost bitterly.

"So you are. And you're a Flint now," Marcus said easily, sliding his hand down to the point where her neck met her shoulders. She shivered at the contact, but she wasn't pushing him away. "Lie back. I'll take care of you." She was shaking her head, her lips trembling. "Katie," he murmured, and she looked at him with a plaintive expression. "I'll take care of you." She bit her lip and nodded when he tucked her hair behind an ear.

Katie allowed him to reposition her diagonally on the bed, her head on his pillow. She clutched at it with a tight grip, taking deep, shuddering breaths. She was drowning in the scent of him as he moved to lie on his stomach, his hands at her hips and his mouth hovering just over the juncture of her thighs. Even when he raised her knees, his touch was nothing like what she'd felt before, and Nott certainly hadn't done this.

Marcus had liked going down on girls in the past, and he knew this would be a better way to start with Katie. Her legs trembled, and her breathing hitched when his mouth descended over her. He licked her folds carefully, patiently, tracing her from the outside in. His fingers ghosted over the insides of her thighs, setting them to trembling. He was patient, licking at her gently for some time before even approaching her clit. She was frightened, too much an innocent. It was rather like dealing with a skittish virgin, he realized, and that helped him figure out what he needed to do with her. She needed to be taught that not all touch was horrible or painful.

He worked his tongue over her folds, inside her dry sheath, then up and around her clit. She let out a shuddering breath, and Marcus took that as a good sign. He continued patiently, laving at her in gentle circles. When she started to make a whining noise deep within her throat, he smiled and slipped a fingertip inside her. She was starting to grow damp, and Marcus kept at his same slow pace. Her breaths grew harsh, and her back arched up off the bed. "Let me hear you," he said, his breath ghosting over the damp flesh. "I need to know what works for you."

Katie let out a soft whimper as he slid his finger further inside her. To her surprise, he had been so very gentle, and was drawing her response out bit by bit. One hand still held his pillow tight, but her other moved to grasp the coverlet in her fist. Her entire body was tightening, and all she could do was feel as he moved his finger inside of her and his lips gently tugged on her clit. She let out a low moan when he sucked on it, tongue swirling around it in lazy circles, then back to licking stripes against it.

It was almost like a game. He could make her breath shatter with one kind of line across her clit, could make her groan with another. She was starting to tighten around his finger, and he kept sliding it in and out of her at a steady rhythm. Her eyes were rolling into the back of her head, her back arched up, and Marcus smiled against her mound. She might not have believed him, but he was determined to prove to her that sex with him could be pleasurable.

Even after she came with a soft cry, he kept licking at her. He crooked his finger inside her, making her gasp and her thighs tremble. The pleasure shot through her, and Marcus kept licking and sucking at her swollen clit. She moaned, writhing beneath his lips, grasping at the coverlet. Marcus slid another finger into her, finding her wet and ready. Her body might have been ready, but he didn't think her mind was ready just yet. She came again, her body clamping down tight around his fingers. He kissed his way up, adjusting his position and moving her leg out of his way. Katie whimpered as he moved his fingers inside of her at a steady rhythm, his thumb grazing her clit. Marcus licked his way up her torso, then moved to take a breast into his mouth. Katie gasped, arching into his mouth. He moved her hand from the coverlet to his shoulder, silently giving her permission to touch him. He _wanted_ her to touch him. He _wanted_ her to feel him, to move beneath him, to eventually crave his touch. He rolled his tongue over her nipple, feeling it rise to a peak between his lips. She came again, and still he moved over her, not yet ready to stop. This was an elaborate kind of preparation, but he didn't want to sink inside of her until she was given over to him completely. Otherwise, he wasn't sure if he would trigger a memory of her past abuse.

Katie sank her nails into his shoulder, crying out in pleasure at the next orgasm. Marcus moved his mouth to her other breast, shifting his position again. He was hovering over more of her body now, but her head was still thrown back and her legs were splayed wide for him. She panted, head lolling on the pillow, her dark hair spread in a halo around her head. Adrian thought this was a mistake, but suddenly Marcus couldn't help but think that this _fit_ somehow, that this was exactly the way things should be.

The next time she came, Marcus removed his mouth and fingers from her body. She made an incoherent mewl of protest, but he was stripping the clothes from his body. He was rock hard and aching for her, and held her hands above her head as he drove into her with a single thrust. She moaned at the feel of him, and he used one hand to tilt her hips for better access. She arched up against him, head lolling, and Marcus seized her mouth with his. Her lips were slack, and he slid his tongue between them to stroke hers. She gasped, mouth opening wide, and he lazily explored her mouth even as he pumped himself deeply into her, feeling as though he was sliding home.

He came in a rush, feeling her tighten around him as she was closing in on another orgasm. A few more thrusts and she shuddered, gasping for breath and moaning with the release.

It didn't seem to occur to her right away how thoroughly he covered her, that she was pinned to the bed beneath his weight. Marcus could almost see the exact moment she realized it, as her eyes widened a fraction and her breath hitched in her chest. He rolled off of her then, before she could even whimper, and simply lay on the bed next to her. Katie blinked in surprise, then looked over at him in confusion. "Is that...?"

"Is that what?" he asked, propping his head up on an elbow to look at her.

"Is that what it's supposed to be like?" she asked in a small voice. Marcus merely nodded, and he watched her expression shutter.

Katie curled up on her side, her back facing Marcus. She felt so small and vulnerable then, almost used. He pulled her close, her back tight against his front, and she resisted the urge to cry. This wasn't the way it was supposed to be. She was supposed to be in love with her husband. She was supposed to have married someone that loved her. She was supposed to have a wonderful life and a wonderful family, and magic was only supposed to augment that life.

Marcus stroked her arm gently, feeling her gradually grow more relaxed in his embrace. "You'll stay with me now," he murmured, feeling the need to say it aloud. "You are my wife, after all."

Her heart felt small and shriveled, and his words brought her no comfort at all. He didn't realize it, couldn't possibly. He thought he was doing the right thing, she knew. He thought this was the way it was supposed to be. He didn't know any better.

But she did, and she felt the loss keenly, mourning the life she would never have.

***

Katie woke early, hyperventilating after waking from a nightmare she couldn't remember. Marcus was still asleep, an arm and leg tossed carelessly over her sprawled form. He seemed content in his sleep, and Katie slipped out from underneath his arm. She was sticky and felt stretched out in places. She wasn't entirely comfortable using Marcus' attached bathroom, but she wasn't about to run about the house starkers. She bowed her head beneath the shower spray, taking deep breaths. All right. He wasn't terrible, not completely, and wasn't nasty to her. But she still felt helpless, still felt like a pawn tossed about between these Death Eaters.

"You couldn't sleep?"

Katie whirled around and saw Marcus' head peeking about the shower curtain. He was sleepy-looking, rubbing at his eyes and then looking at her. "I don't sleep well," Katie said. She was tempted to look away from his open expression, but if she kept eye contact, at least he wasn't gawking at her.

"Oh. I'll join you."

Before Katie could protest, Marcus ducked behind the shower curtain with her. She tried to back away and leave, but he slid a hand around her waist. It was a slow slide, his open palm gliding across the skin and his fingers curling around her hipbone. His other hand slid up from the rise of her breast to her shoulder, and he leaned in to kiss her, the water falling across his broad back. Katie grasped his arms, intending to push him back. But her head tilted back and their mouths met. It was strange for Katie, to be standing there with his hands on her and not feel any panic, to have his tongue trace her lips and not want to bite down on it. She opened her mouth under his, and he made a soft satisfied noise as he deepened the kiss.

_Dear God, what am I_ doing? she thought suddenly, breaking the kiss to breathe. Marcus slid his hands around her, simply holding her, a content humming sound deep in throat. "I don't usually sleep well either," he said in a quiet voice. "Last night I slept very well."

"How lovely for you," Katie murmured, not sure what to say.

He laughed and leaned back to start washing his hair. "We'll get you settled in here today." He didn't say anything when she nodded and ducked out of the shower. By the time he got out, she was dried off and dressed in the same gray robe from the day before. Marcus pulled a face as his eyes raked over it. "We'll need to get a seamstress to build a proper wardrobe for you. I've put it off far too long."

"There's no point, is there?" Katie asked. "I can't exactly scrub floors in a ball gown."

Marcus frowned, but let the point go. "I suppose not."

She tried to go through her usual daily routine, but Marcus was starting to find her throughout the day. His gaze was uncomfortable; she kept having the feeling that he was thinking of peeling the robe back and sinking himself inside her. She kept up with the housekeeping. If she did the work well, if there was nothing to find fault with, there would be no reason for things to change. Oh, he _said_ things were different now that she was legally a Halfblood, but even the sex was part of the experimentation on her. His only intention was to get her pregnant, to see if her newly grown womb could sustain a pregnancy until birth. This didn't guarantee her a permanent position in the household, really. Women died in childbirth all the time. It wouldn't take much to kill her once the child was born. But if she was useful, if she had a place in the household beside bed warmer, she would likely survive the birth. Katie had to believe in that.

With his gaze heavy on her, Katie couldn't help but think about the way his hands had felt on her neck and back, firm and strong against her body. He hadn't forced her, hadn't hurt her. The spells had hurt, the tests had been uncomfortable, and she hated the situation she had been in when she met him. But he hadn't actually harmed her, and his touch against her skin had been clinical at worst, protective at best. It was maddening, and she couldn't figure it out.

"Enough of that," Marcus said after watching her a few hours. It was almost time to prepare lunch, and he pressed his fingers over her lips to forestall her saying so. "Come with me."

Katie stopped breathing when she realized he was taking her to his bedroom. He stripped down to the skin and then flopped onto his bed. She stared at him dumbly, wondering if she could gracefully exit and run out of the house. He patted the bed beside him, and Katie could feel the blood drain from her face. "I should go."

"Don't be silly. Come here."

She took steps forward numbly. He hadn't forced her yet, she reminded herself. He didn't look ready to force her now. "This isn't a good idea," she whispered.

Marcus grasped her wrist and pulled her to the bed next to him. "You're my wife," he said in a low tone. "Of course it's a good idea."

Chest tight, Katie watched helplessly as he pulled the robe up over her legs, baring them to his view. He looked up at her face after a moment and stopped. "You really are frightened of this, aren't you?" he asked in wonder, as if he hadn't believed it before. Katie nodded, fingers twisting in her lap uncertainly. "Come on, let's get this off of you. I have an idea."

Drab gray robe tossed aside, Katie felt too exposed and helpless. But Marcus flopped onto his back again. "This time, you take charge. You touch me." Marcus laughed at her startled expression. "This is different, isn't it? This shouldn't remind you of anything."

"Why are you being so nice to me?" she asked in a quiet voice. _I'm nothing to you. Not that long ago, I was less than nothing._

Marcus slid his fingertips along the edge of her thigh, looking at her appreciatively. "We should get along well, shouldn't we?" he asked in a quiet tone. "I take the vows seriously."

"We never actually said them," Katie pointed out.

He took her hand, realizing he hadn't yet bothered to even give her a ring. "I promise to protect you, to watch over you and to keep you safe."

There was nothing about fidelity or honor, but Katie merely nodded. She couldn't expect more. "I can't promise the same."

"I don't ask for that." Marcus tugged on her hand. "Come on. You touch me. There must be _something_ you've wanted to touch."

"Not particularly." She looked up and saw his aggrieved expression and couldn't help but laugh. She then clapped her hands over her mouth, but Marcus smiled as well. She hesitantly placed her fingers over the center of his chest. "You touch me here a lot." She slid her hand up to his neck, her fingers brushing the side of it. "Or here."

Marcus placed his own hand on the rise of her breast, sliding it up to cup the base of her throat. "The skin here was untouched. That's what I compare the rest to." He slid his fingers along the column of her throat, feeling her swallow. "And this is a sign of trust, isn't it? You trust I won't harm you. You're safe with me."

"I don't think you'd deliberately hurt me," Katie murmured, shifting her position almost uncomfortably. His words were too close to the truth; she didn't think he would whip, beat or rape her, but she was constantly afraid that he might change.

He let out a hiss of breath when her hand brushed across his lower abdomen. "Keep doing that," he said in a guttural tone. He slid his hand from her neck to her face as the blush rose along her cheeks. "Just explore a bit. Maybe that will get you over your fear."

"I don't think it's that simple," Katie replied tartly.

"Maybe," he began slowly. "But it has to start somewhere, doesn't it?"

Hesitantly, Katie slid her hand a little lower. His cock was slowly rising into her palm, and she locked eyes with his. He nodded encouragingly and sighed when she grasped it. She moved her hand over him slowly at first, watching his face carefully. "Is this all right?" she asked after a moment. She felt like an utter idiot. "Or do I need it like you did yesterday? With your mouth?"

"Merlin, yes," he groaned, tilting his hips up into her hand. He moved his own hand along her hip, nudging her thighs apart. Katie adjusted her stance, her hand tightening on him for a moment as his fingers traced her inner thigh. "Like that. I like it like that." He looked at her, gaze heavy with lust and longing as he watched her shiver. She was growing wet, slick with her building arousal. "This is good," he murmured, tracing her folds with his fingertips. She inhaled sharply when his fingers brushed against her clit, her movement erratic over his cock. He gestured with his other hand for her to lean down, and when she did so, he pulled her in for a kiss. Her mouth was open already, and Marcus slid his tongue along the inside of her lips, touching her teeth and tongue. It was almost a dance, movement and retreat, tease and follow, something that only made every touch along his skin fever bright.

Katie shuddered when she came, startled and clamping down hard around his fingers inside of her. Her hand was tighter around his cock, almost painfully so. He pulled on her hips, urging her to straddle his waist. "You take control here," he groaned. She looked at him with wide eyes, appearing so fucking innocent. He guided himself to her entrance, then thrust upward into her in one hard stroke. She gasped at the sudden fullness, shifting her legs around his body. _"Yes,"_ he groaned, tilting his hips to thrust even more deeply into her. Katie leaned forward, her hands on his shoulders, and he grasped her hips to help her keep balance. The pace was fast and hard, the new angle allowing him to sink in deeper and harder into her.

Katie moaned, feeling heat spreading in her belly, an urgency building within her. It was almost heartbreaking, that she could feel this without feeling anything for him, that she was going through the motions of love without having it. But then he rolled his hips beneath her, his hands almost painfully tight on her hips, quickening his pace. She was teetering on the edge of coming again, a desperate tightness wanting to burst out of her. She was so exquisitely sensitive, more than she had realized, more than he knew, and she threw her head back as she gasped for air. On impulse, Marcus craned his neck upward to catch a nipple between his lips, tugging gently. It was enough to send her reeling, and she came with a cry. She was tight around him, clamped even tighter, her body starting to milk him. Groaning, Marcus came, moving his hands to her back to support her.

But she collapsed gracelessly on top of him, panting, her eyes closed as she struggled for breath. She shivered as his hands roamed across her back, as she felt his cock twitch inside of her. What could she say about herself now? She could have left. She could have walked away, and he wouldn't have stopped her.

Maybe that was why she didn't. He gave her the option to leave, to stop if she grew too uncomfortable. He wanted her to feel pleasure in this, wanted her to crave his touch. _It should be pleasant,_ he had said, and she had to suppress the hysterical laughter that threatened to bubble out of her. Of course sex was _supposed_ to be pleasant. It hadn't been for her in the past, but that hadn't been sex. Therein lay the difference.

Marcus cradled the back of her head with his hands, stroking the nape of her neck gently. He could almost feel the wheels turning inside of her head, and he couldn't even begin to guess at what it meant. She didn't turn from him, at least. She stayed where she was, her face tucked against his neck. "Doing okay?" he asked. She nodded, and he stroked her back. "Stay here with me today. I've taken the day off. No research today."

"Okay," Katie murmured against his throat. She felt tired and lazy, her eyes sliding shut. She would be indispensable. She would do whatever needed to be done. She would be needed, and that would keep her alive, even if her soul felt empty and hollow.

***  
***


	6. Living With Reality

Katie had to give it to Rodolphus Lestrange: he was tenacious as all hell. He kept coming to visit, and she only felt awkward and strange around him. It didn't help that Marcus was _different_ now. He had arranged for a seamstress to come to the house to take measurements for an entirely new wardrobe. He gave her light touches during the day when she brought his meals or passed him in the hallways. He sat with her outside when she mentioned wanting to see the stars and didn't complain that it was a stupid idea. He was exquisitely patient with her when she cringed away from his touch or tried to hide beneath the covers at night. As of this morning, her menses had started. He was obviously disappointed, but at the same time had been pleased. The potions and spellwork had obviously taken hold and was functioning well, so he was still smiling at her. It was too good to last, and Lestrange's visits only reminded her of that fact. They were Death Eaters, and people were hurt when they didn't get their way.

Finally, Katie couldn't stand the strain in the room. "I don't know what to say to you," she blurted abruptly. What else could he possibly do to her, after all? She'd already gone through hell.

Lestrange put down the teacup and leaned back slightly. "I see."

"I mean, I knew what I'd say to Edward Bell. But none of it applies to you. I used to wonder why he left us, but now I know. You never came back because you didn't know about us. You weren't around because you never knew I even existed. You didn't give a shit about my mother and you _hurt_ her. What am I supposed to say to you? Am I supposed to pretend it never happened? You were _awful_ to her. You ruined her life!"

He was very still during her words, then picked up the teacup and took a careful sip. "She was a muggle," he said finally, "and most aren't worth mentioning. Was her life truly ruined? She didn't have to keep you. She could have gotten rid of you. Even muggles can do that, can't they?"

Katie's jaw tightened. "You're an evil man."

Lestrange grinned easily and tossed back the rest of his tea. He wasn't interested in the semblance of niceties any longer. "Of course I am. Now, it's past time for you to see your family estate. You never leave this place."

She knew what to expect here, that was why. When she didn't answer, Lestrange grasped her arm. "At least you're dressing more to your station," he said, lips curling with disapproval. "Though you're still acting as a mere servant. Honestly, I'd expected better from you, even with muggle blood in your veins."

The side-along apparition saved her from making a response. She looked around where they had landed and didn't recognize a thing. It made her feel that much more vulnerable; she didn't know where she was, didn't have any means to protect herself other than her teeth and fists, and she was alone with a Death Eater that had only a thin veneer of civility. He might have claimed her as a daughter, but that didn't mean much in the grand scheme of things.

Lestrange seemed to sigh happily at the sight of his surroundings. "Ah. Brightholme. It's about time you're here to see it, Katherine. This is your birthright now, and you should know it." He looked at her, eyes fierce. "Brightholme should sing in your veins, should pull on your very blood. It's diluted, but it's still there."

Katie didn't feel a damn thing. Did that mean her biological father was actually Nott? That was disgusting and nauseating.

He took her on a tour of the manor house, which was located in the countryside in the south of England. She wasn't particularly drawn to the house, but she didn't want to be. She didn't want to be beholden to this man for anything, not even the DNA he may or may not have contributed to her creation. The manor house was like every other sprawling estate house in southern England, with wide rooms and large windows. There were echoes everywhere, with not even a house elf to break the monotony.

But the gardens were brilliant.

Katie stopped and wandered away from Lestrange in the gardens. There were cascading blooms in myriad colors amidst carefully trimmed topiary, and benches for seating were placed with an eye to conveniently contemplate the overall effect. She reached out to touch a purple warbling floret, and it let out a perfectly pitched A flat. She took a moment to try to remember that particular class Professor Sprout had taught, and tried to remember the old piano lessons her mother had insisted that she take. A few trembling bars of "Fur Elise" came out, sounding more like a bell choir.

Lestrange clapped when she finished, almost mocking her. "Yes, I knew you'd enjoy my mother's gardens." He smirked at her shock. "Did you think it was all blood and torture? Did you think we're without our passions and need for culture?" His shirtsleeves were rolled back, and the livid Dark Mark on his arm seemed to mock Katie as well. "It's about power, daughter mine. It's using talents to every advantage that you have, making the most of the skills you have." His lips curled into a smile that hid his teeth but still set Katie's nerves on edge. "You waste the opportunities given to you. You're hiding rather than reveling in the power we've given you." He leveled a bony finger at her. "This is unacceptable."

"What do you plan to do about it, then?"

Lestrange only laughed, thin shoulders shaking. "Katherine, I don't have to plan a thing. You were given to me as a gift." His eyes were dark and frightening, drawn features tighter and thinner than they usually were. "With enough time, you'll realize your place. You're untempered steel. Flint will do his duty soon enough. It's only been a few weeks yet that you've really been shown what it means to be a Lestrange." His eyes narrowed slightly. "Has Flint even bedded you yet? Has he consummated his sham marriage yet?"

"That's none of your business," Katie snapped, chin lifted high.

His laughter was chilling. "Oh, he's not a complete fool, then. He plans to truly unite our houses then. That certainly keeps him safe when the winds shift again."

"What on earth are you talking about?" Katie sputtered.

"He's too kind to mudbloods, too merciful. You've seen his testing ground. It's too good a place for animals like that." Lestrange's smile was thin. "You know the kind of holding cells mudbloods are held in. You know what should happen to them. The price to pay for breaking them when you shouldn't is steep. So is breaking the wrong creatures." Katie stepped backward, away from his grasping hands, and felt the prick of rose thorns from the bush behind her. Lestrange reached past her and caught a few branches in his fist. "There are those that pity the creatures," he said, eyes flashing wildly. "They think holding and containing them is the way to go. Bleeding heart liberals that want to let them loose into the wild, spreading their filth beyond the borders of these lands." Lestrange withdrew his hand from the rosebush, blood spilling across his palm where the thorns had gone deeply through the skin of his palm. "This is pure blood," he said, holding his palm open in front of her. "This is the only thing that matters, the only thing that gives true power. You need to know that."

"You remind me just about every visit."

He closed his bloody hand over her face, staring into her panicked eyes. "This is your blood, Katherine. _This_ is your blood. Not that muggle trash you think you came from." He shifted his grip so that his palm was over her mouth. Her hands pushed at his chest, and she tried to kick him or knee him in the groin. But he kept his bloody palm over her mouth and nose, and held her torso tightly with his other arm. "I will show you. You don't listen, but I will show you." He licked her temple, and he could feel the tremors rolling through her. "This is your blood. This is your past and future, all of it. This is all that matters. Drink it. Learn it. This is true power."

_He's mad,_ Katie tried to tell herself. _He won't hurt me, really, but he's mad. He's a complete and utter nutter._

Despite herself, his blood entered her mouth and nose and smeared across her face. She panicked, choking on the blood in her mouth. _Nott's coming back,_ she thought wildly. He would have the whip and the wand, and he would chain her down. He had the fire spells as his favorite way to make her scream, and he gave no slack on the chains. She sometimes feared she would drown in her own blood.

Lestrange held onto her tightly as she tried to struggle in his grip. "The blood is life and power and everything you need," he crooned into her ear. "You're my blood, mine, and you will do what's necessary for the bloodline. You must. You're a Lestrange, and you need to do what's right. You will give me what I need, will give me what's left when Flint's done with you." His laughter was harsh and cruel in her ear, and his grip only tightened as she struggled. "Ruisart trained you well, didn't he? He taught you how to play the whore for Flint, didn't he? You'll get down on your knees for him and you'll be his brood mare. But you'll do it, and you'll save this bloodline from dying out." He laughed as Katie choked on his blood, and he moved so that his other hand was twisted in her dark hair, pulling it back so that she was forced to suck on his wounds in order to suck in air as well. "You'll save this house on your back like a good halfblood whore, doing your part for the family. I'll check on you, make sure you play your role properly."

He let her go abruptly, and Katie fell to her hands and knees. She gasped for breath, the copper taste of blood in her mouth and nose.

Smiling as if nothing untoward happened, Lestrange wrapped a handkerchief around his hand. "I still remember when Bella gave me this," he said conversationally. "Your stepmother would have had more to say, I know. She would take her job seriously, teaching you your place in the family and in service to the Dark Lord. But if a brood mare is all you're good for, that's what it's going to have to be. Dear Bella would rather train someone to be her right hand, but she's been dead these six long years." He smiled down at Katie fondly. "She would have liked training you to be a good servant to our Lord and Master. There would be such glory in our name, and we'd erase the filth you came from. But alas, I don't have the same skill she had. It was an art form. One she sacrificed much to perfect." Lestrange squatted down beside Katie, and he laughed when she flinched back from him. "But then, if I had heirs from her, I wouldn't need you."

Katie skittered backward, fetching up against the rosebush. "I can't be both filthy and worthy. You have to choose one."

Lestrange laughed and hauled her to her feet. "We'll burn the muggle filth out of you yet."

The Flint house had never been as welcome as when Katie was returned. Marcus glared at Lestrange and pushed Katie behind him. The blood smeared across her face was tacky and awful, and Katie's skin itched. Lestrange only laughed at Marcus' protective streak and left.

"Wash up and go to bed," Marcus said in a low tone. "I have wards to redo."

Lestrange wasn't able to apparate Katie off the grounds after that.

***

"Married life seems to agree with you," Draco Malfoy commented idly, smirking at Marcus. He and Adrian had come to his office as they usually did every third month. As High Inquisitor, Draco had to oversee their experiments to be sure that they fell within the letter of the law. It went without saying that the two men did, and so their visits were usually social calls more than anything else. Adrian snorted and shook his head, taking a long swallow of the whiskey that Draco had offered. Marcus merely glared at Draco, but he was used to that. "Oh, come on. Katie Bell... I'm sorry. Katie Lestrange. No, wait. Katie Flint." He laughed at the force of Marcus' glare. "This is hilarious, mate. Don't look at me like that. You _knew_ it was going to be a mess, and you took that route anyway. The matchmaking mamas might've been a safer route to take than dealing with my uncle. You should have told me about that plan first, you know."

"You were in Hungary," Marcus replied, his jaw clenched tight.

"Ginny knows the floo codes. You could have spoken with me at any time."

Adrian snorted. "And admit he's wrong? Did you take a blow to the head the last time you were out and about?"

"Nice to know who my friends are," Marcus said darkly.

"Of course we are," Adrian cried, throwing him a nasty look. "Why else would we put up with your surly moods? Merlin's balls, Marcus. Just when I think you've stopped being a right bastard, you do something else. You obviously didn't want another Elora, and you don't have one. Make up your fucking mind, will you?"

Draco paused in bringing his drink to his lips. The temperature in the room seemed to have dropped at least ten degrees, but Adrian hadn't noticed that. Marcus didn't like bringing up Elora, and Adrian seemed to have forgotten that fact. Elora Montague had been an itty slip of a girl, seemingly sweet and delicate. She had been an utter Slytherin, however, but her soft spot had been her older brother's best friend Marcus. It was inevitable that the two would marry once she was out of Hogwarts, especially considering that Montague had been killed in the battle. It didn't make a prominent spot in the society pages; everyone had gotten married just after the war ended, and their announcement had been expected for some time. What had seemed odd was that Elora didn't immediately get pregnant like all the other war brides. She was a dutiful wife in every other sense, but Marcus never seemed displeased with her. Draco had always assumed that he wanted to wait for a time, as he and Ginny had. But sooner or later, _everyone_ was pressured into having large families to keep the numbers up. Kicking the muggleborn out of Wizarding society and the war had thinned the population, and one of the first decrees was to state that all families had to have offspring.

But Elora died, and Marcus hadn't made any moves to get married again. Draco had assumed it was grief. Marcus never gave him any other indication, and Draco wasn't the type to investigate his friends' personal lives in that much detail. That was rude.

"She's halfblood and damaged," Draco said in a quiet tone. His look quieted Adrian. "It doesn't go away overnight, you know that. But today aside, you're not nearly as angry as you've been. So married life must agree with you, yes?" He took a sip of his whiskey and then put the glass aside. "Or is it more difficult than you'd thought it would be?"

"I didn't plan this," Marcus mumbled. He rubbed at his jaw and looked away from the other two men. "There are holes in this. I didn't think it through before I pushed the paperwork through."

"Real life is messy," Draco said, shrugging. "Aren't you the one that told me that? Things don't always work out the way we want them to, and it isn't always what we imagined it to be." His smile was thin but understanding. He'd had a rude awakening at age fifteen, and it had only gotten worse for him after that. Somehow, he managed to salvage something out of his life. "How can I help?"

"I don't think you can," Marcus said flatly, turning back to face his friend. "I dug myself into this, I can get myself out of this." He picked up the glass of brandy he had ignored thus far and drained it all at once. "My research is going well, at least. I'll take whatever benefit I can."

"We can move to patent the scar removal formulas and the spell work possibly by next month," Adrian said. "This one wants to wait on the organ regeneration for a bit."

"You can afford to," Draco said with a shrug. "I don't see why not."

"It hasn't properly been tested," Marcus said at the same time. "We don't go about commercializing something not tested properly. This is our name and reputation you're putting on the line."

Adrian's eyebrows rose at Marcus' vehement tone. "Well. I'd best go back to Mungo's, then. Good to see you again, Malfoy."

"Likewise, Pucey," Draco said. Once Adrian was gone, he turned to Marcus. "All right. All is definitely _not_ well with you, my friend."

Marcus rubbed his jaw again. "She hit me. In her sleep, but she hit me."

Draco blinked in surprise. He hadn't been expecting that one. "Oh."

"It's been a few months since I bought her. She knows I'm not Ruisart Nott. And every time something like this happens, I want to rip out the bastard's heart for making my life hell."

_You should have known this wouldn't be easy,_ Draco thought heavily. But then, he hadn't dealt with many people even before Elora died. She had been the one to socialize, to temper him for the world's consumption. "I've tried keeping in my temper, but she flinches at me," Marcus continued in measured words. Draco could hear the frustration behind them. "I can make her come, but I can tell she doesn't want to."

"Too much information, that," Draco said, pouring more alcohol. He was way too sober to be Marcus' Agony Aunt. "I've told you to invite Ginny and the kids over. Why won't you?"

"I don't want a blood traitor near her. I want this done right."

Draco looked at his friend steadily. "Do you think _I'm_ a blood traitor? Do you think I'd do you harm?"

Marcus looked away from Draco's gaze and sighed. "No, you wouldn't do that."

"Damn straight. You haven't slept, have you? You're eating better, but I don't think you sleep worth a damn. You need to take better care of yourself, Flint. Otherwise, Katie can't learn that you're any different."

Marcus looked back at Draco for a moment. "There's talk you're not as hard on muggleborns or muggles as you should be."

Draco kept his impassive expression on. "And?"

"Did you push her at me because you knew I wouldn't break her?"

"If there's one thing you are, it's aware of rules. And when they don't apply to you," Draco replied. He sipped his whiskey. "It doesn't just apply to Quidditch you know. Our way of life has rules, and you know that. You know when they don't matter in the grand scheme of things." He let that sink in for a moment. "Go home and sleep. For one night, take a damn break. If I know you at all, you're doing some kind of research even when you should be resting. Just _stop_ for a moment. You'll get your bearings back once you get enough distance from it."

"Is that why you leave England all the time?" Marcus murmured, picking up the brandy glass.

"Perspective is important," Draco replied gently. "Sometimes that's the only thing that helps you see what matters."

***

Of course Marcus hadn't bothered to take a break. There was work to be done. Perhaps on the weekend; it was Thursday, so two more days of working on refining his formula for Gorgon pox wouldn't hurt. When Katie brought him dinner, he told her to stay with him. She ate a little, looking vaguely disconcerted at how close he wanted her to sit. He didn't say much over dinner, and she didn't do much more than pick at her food. "Is there something wrong with it that you didn't tell me about?" he asked finally.

"No. Just not hungry," Katie murmured. "I'm not exactly good company right now."

"For anyone? Or just me?" he asked quietly.

"For anyone," Katie told him, her voice just as quiet. Her shoulders were rounded down, but not as hunched as they used to be in his presence. "But especially for you. I can't be what you want."

"And if I just want you to be with me?"

Katie searched his face, and Marcus wasn't sure what she would find there. He felt hollow, pulled in too many different directions. He shouldn't give a damn. Months ago, he wouldn't have. He was only able to do the work he did by thinking of the outbuilding as a place for mudbloods, as if they were less than human. Mostly, he didn't think of it. The place was so layered with spells that he didn't often have to step into it.

Katie picked up her fork and poked at the food on her plate. "I'm not good company."

Marcus looked around the lab, at the glassware and all of the bright overhanging lights. Of course she wasn't good company. All of the painful field trials had been held here. He stood abruptly. "Come on. We should have dinner in the dining room, not down here." He took up the two trays and looked at her startled expression. "I'll show you where the wine cellar is."

She knew where it was, right next to the laundry room and the furnace room. She didn't say anything, and took the bottle of red wine he suggested. The dining room was spotless, and he set the trays at one end of the table. Between the two of them, it was set with the proper place settings and glasses, and Marcus poured out generous portions of wine. "I don't get much opportunity to drink this," he murmured, swishing the wine in his glass. Katie sipped delicately, not sure what to say. "I've always liked this one."

Marcus was _trying_ to get her to say something, but it didn't seem to be working. If he had wanted easy, he could have simply thrown himself into society at large and snapped up the first idiot girl some matchmaking mama threw at him. When the idea of Katie had first presented itself to him, however, it had just seemed to fit. Then actually having her in his bed cemented things for him. It worked. It was perfect. Why couldn't she see that? Even with the past trauma, couldn't she see that this was the best possible future she could have?

The wine was easy to drink and gave Katie something to do with her hands. On a mostly empty stomach, it went straight to her head. She could feel the flush in her face and the warmth in her skin, and Marcus' gaze was almost tangible. She looked up at him, almost shivering inside the silk of the dress she was wearing. "I should go to bed," she murmured.

His eyes were on her mouth. "We both should," he replied. He reached out and touched the side of her face, his hand cupping her cheek so that his fingers brushed through her hair. Katie was very still as he kissed her, her hands resting gently on his chest. "I don't think we'll get upstairs," he murmured against her mouth. "Good thing no one else really lives here."

"But Adrian..."

"Comes and goes and pays no attention to what I do half the time," Marcus said, pulling her to her feet. Before even reaching the hallway, his hands were sliding down the sides of her torso, making her shiver. He stopped her outside of one the bedrooms on the first floor, one of the endless numbers of guest rooms that Katie dusted every day. He moved his hands to cup her breasts, fingers brushing across her nipples through the silk of the dress and the lace of her bra. "Here. We'll sleep here tonight."

"Impractical," she gasped, shaking her head. "All the clothes are upstairs."

Marcus bent his head to lick the outer shell of her ear and nibble at the bare earlobe. He'd forgotten about jewelry and all that. He'd have to remember those little details. He slid one hand down her stomach, tracing the outline of her sex through the dress. "I'll take care of it," he said, his voice heavy with lust. It was a low rumble in her ear that made her shiver in his arms. "Touch me, Katie. It's all right to touch me."

She hesitantly reached behind her, grasping his pant leg tightly. He was pulling up the skirt of the dress, and it dimly occurred to Katie that he would stop if she told him to. He would be hurt and confused and maybe angry, but he would stop. It was hard to think with his left hand caressing and kneading her breast, his lips at her ear and his right hand pulling at the dress to touch her between her legs. The tendrils of fear were there, but they were outnumbered.

His chest was against her back, his arm was snaked around her body. It should have scared her, but it didn't. His hand slid between her legs, beneath the lace. Marcus going slow, listening to the way her breath fractured at his touch, feeling her hand tighten on his trousers. His erection, heavy and hot, lay against her hip. Too much too fast and she would run, he knew that. "Open the door," he whispered in her ear, moving down to her exposed neck. "My hands are busy."

Katie made a startled noise, but managed to do it. They stumbled into the room, his hands never stopping their careful stroking and kneading. Katie came with a surprised squeaking noise, and Marcus' laughter rumbled pleasantly through her back. He didn't stop, merely guided her toward the perfectly made bed. She tumbled forward slightly, bracing herself against the bed as he worked her through to another orgasm. Marcus shifted his hand at her breast to pull at her dress and tilt her hips, murmuring "Climb up a bit?" There was a split second of sheer terror -- Nott chaining her down over the desk and then picking up his wand to cast a spell -- but then his fingers slid back inside her and there was no way this was the same situation. Her body clamped down tight around his fingers, making him groan in frustrated need. Katie pressed her face into the comforter to stifle her moans, and she grasped at the fabric in fitful starts. It wasn't much of a surprise when he flipped her dress up over her back and tore through the flimsy lace panties in his way. He filled her in a single thrust, shifting her weight slightly forward. Her breasts dragged over the bed, the fabric of the lace and silk and comforter layers rubbing against her nipples and making her gasp. She squeezed her eyes tight as she struggled for breath, feeling his hands on her hips for balance as he moved to thrust deeply into her.

She felt utterly delicious, and Marcus moved faster, thrusting even more deeply. He pulled on her hips and she picked up the rhythm to counter his trusts against her. _Yes._ That was what he wanted, and he growled "Let me hear you, Katie. Tell me what you want. Tell me what feels good. Fuck, that, do that again..." The tilt of her hips was enough to make him hit some spot that had her crying out in pleasure, squeezing down tight as she approached orgasm. That was more than enough to send him over the edge, and he came with a grunt and a sigh, still moving until she came again.

Katie whimpered softly when he pulled out of her, the silk fluttering down around her spread thighs. Marcus collapsed onto the bed next to her, not even bothering to clean himself up. He pulled her tight against him for a kiss, his tongue inside her mouth. He cradled her head in his hand, holding her to deepen the kiss further. When they broke apart for air, he looked up into her large, wide eyes. He couldn't help but smile at her. "See? You're wonderful company."

He pulled her down to rest on his chest when she had no reply for him. The sound of his quieting heart seemed to soothe her, though, and she fell asleep soon enough. Marcus ran his fingers through her dark hair, smiling to himself. This would work. He had missed all sorts of details, but he could fill those in once he realized what they were. He was sure it would work.

***

It was odd, to take meals together with Marcus, to be legally married and yet still perfect strangers. It wasn't awful to be in his presence, or to feel him brush up against her as an overture. He took great pains not to remind her of anything horrible, but Katie couldn't help but remember. It was the flash of frustration in his eyes that did it sometimes, or the snide confidence in Lestrange's eyes when he came to visit every Thursday morning. She felt like a butterfly caught with pins, or like the nightingale of stories. No matter which way she went, she was caught in some kind of trap with no way out of it.

Marcus caught her about the waist one evening, his breath hot on the back of her neck. During Adrian's daily exam, he had commented that this was likely her fertile period. Katie knew that he would tell Marcus right away. Her eyes slid shut at his touch, at his large hands covering her belly. This was all he wanted, she told herself. He was making it pleasant for her, but he didn't give a damn about anything but the baby she would eventually produce. Even Lestrange called her a brood mare in between rants about blood purity and her duty to the family.

"Katie," he murmured against the skin at the back of her neck. "It should be time."

Of course, she thought to herself almost bitterly. If she said no, he would try to cajole her into letting him touch her. He would make her body sing an aria of pleasure, and then her resolve would break apart. "Do I have a choice?" she asked, the bitterness bleeding through her words.

"Of course you do," he said, irritated. He turned her around so that he could look into her face and was surprised at the discontent there.

"No, I really don't," Katie said, her lip curling in disgust and anger. For a moment, her expression eerily resembled Lestrange's. "I have nothing."

_"Nott_ took everything away from you," Marcus hissed, grasping her wrists in his hands to keep her from turning away. _"I_ gave it all back to you."

"You gave me nothing new. I'm still stuck here, I still answer to your beck and call. I'm nothing more than before, for all that you say it's different now. Nothing changed, nothing."

He didn't have a good answer for her, but it occurred to him that receiving her anger had to be a good thing. She had to be comfortable to yell at him, to speak her mind. Something had to be changing, even if it didn't automatically fall into what his friends had in their marriages. His parents had been cordial and nothing more, and that was all he really expected at this point.

So he kissed her, hard and hungry and open, letting go of her wrists to place his hands on her hips. "Everything's changed," he growled against her lips. "You have no idea what this means."

He backed her up against the wall, lifting her skirt along the way. She shivered the moment her back hit the wall, when she could feel air against the skin of her thighs. "I'm not that bastard," he grunted, hooking his fingers beneath her knickers. His fingers were rough with need and frustration, but Katie wasn't afraid of him. She wondered when that had happened. "I _need_ this. I _need_ you."

She almost told him he was a liar, but his mouth descended over hers again, his tongue invading her mouth. She was wet almost in spite of herself and she tilted her hips toward his hand. She moaned, eyes squeezed shut and her head turned to the side as his fingers slid inside her and his thumb hit her clit. Katie moaned louder at that contact, writhing beneath his fingers as she grasped his arms. Her body tightened, and he could feel her constrict around his fingers. She let out a groan as she came, but Marcus didn't let up. He continued to stroke her clit, fingers moving deep inside of her as he kissed her mouth. Katie made a soft mewling sound at the sensation, her hands digging into his shoulders as she arched up against his moving hand. "Don't stop," she whimpered when he broke their kiss for air.

When she came again, he pulled his trousers open and thrust into her to the hilt. She groaned at the feel of him inside of her, the feel of his mouth over hers. She responded to his kiss, hot and open, her tongue sliding into his mouth. It surprised him, and his hands tightened over her bottom as he braced her against the wall. Katie rocked against him, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist and her hands clutching his arms for balance. He started to go faster and harder as her hands clutched him tighter against her. Marcus grit his teeth to keep from coming so soon, but he was caught deep inside of her and she was writhing prettily beneath him. She was responding, dammit, how could he not find that hot?

Marcus sagged against her, his forehead against the wall next to her head. "You see?" he panted. "Everything's changed."

Katie let her eyes remain closed. He didn't understand it, and how could she explain what it was she wanted out of life when it hardly made any kind of sense to her? He nuzzled her neck and she shivered. She liked his touch, liked the way he made her feel. There was no way she would deny him this if he asked for it. Other than the sex, though, they were strangers. He didn't love her, she didn't love him. She was grateful he was protecting her, in those odd moments she allowed herself to look at things calmly, but that wasn't the same.

"You don't know anything about me," she murmured. "That hasn't changed."

Marcus leaned back slightly to look at her. "What is it you think I should know that I don't?"

_I'm still afraid you're going to kill me after the baby's born. I'm afraid of even liking you. I don't want to go outside alone. I'm starting to forget what my mother looked like. I can't remember the sound of my brother's voice. My nightmares are getting blurry and I don't know if I'm okay with that. I'm afraid of silence as much as the yelling._

But how could she say all those things? Katie sighed and looked at him with a weary expression. "I'm tired of being afraid all the time."

His brows furrowed, and he looked almost as frightening as he used to. She had seen that expression a thousand times in the months since her release from captivity, but it only just occurred to her that he wasn't actually trying to frighten her. His size and rough features were enough to be intimidating on their own, though he had never once been cruel to her. Dismissive and indifferent, but never deliberately cruel. "What are you afraid of?" he asked, confused.

_The shadows when you're not here. Breathing. Remembering. Not remembering._ "Too many things," Katie murmured with a sigh. "I can't explain it."

He let her down from his grasp reluctantly. "I don't want you hurt."

_Too late for that,_ Katie thought, looking down at the hand grasping her elbow. He meant it to be supportive, but it did nothing but remind her that she was tied to him. Forever and ever, for better or for worse. And she had no say in the matter.

"Maybe someday I won't be," Katie murmured. He didn't stop her when she left the room.

***  
***


	7. To Have And To Hold

It wasn't a surprise when Adrian discovered her pregnancy during one of his daily scans. It wasn't a surprise when the next day she was still pregnant and Adrian determined that it seemed to be viable, progressing at the same normal rate of development as any other pregnancy.

It was a surprise when Marcus pulled her flush against him, a hand curling at her bottom to pull her thigh up against his waist to celebrate the news. "But... I'm already pregnant," she gasped. "You don't have to do this anymore."

"I want to," he said, before swooping down and kissing her. "Don't you?"

She wasn't sure, and her hesitation showed. He kissed her again and again, slow and steady, and Katie could feel the slow burn beginning to build between her thighs, a soft ache in her breasts. There was no look of smug satisfaction when she pulled him close, opening herself to him. "What's this for, then?" she asked quietly.

"You feel good," he answered, and she wasn't sure what kind of an answer that was. It seemed honest, at the very least.

His touch was light but sure, and there wasn't even time to feel a flash of fear when he hovered over her after pushing her down to the bed. His mouth was over hers, a hand cupping a breast while the other was used to hold himself up. She clung to his shirt, then unfolded her hands to smooth them across his chest. It was like a dance, the press of lips and tongue and teeth, fingers probing at skin and fabric, back and froth, inside and out. Katie gasped when he pushed into her, when she felt full with the length of him. He moved slowly, deliberately, hands on either side of her as he moved. "You feel so good," he groaned as she scored her nails down his back. She lifted her legs around his waist, and the groan took on a different tenor. The angle had shifted, and she squeezed her eyes shut as pleasure flooded through her. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, gasping for breath, nails digging into his shoulders. "Fuck, yes," he ground out, moving faster above her. Katie pulled on his shoulders harder, dug her nails in a little deeper. Marcus growled, picking up more speed, and _oh,_ she came with a blinding flash of pleasure that pulled him down along with her.

This was her life, then. This was all she was going to be. Katie kept her eyes closed. There was no need to open them. Even when Marcus shifted his body to look at her, touching her face and pushing her hair away, there was no need to look into his eyes. She didn't want to see them; she was a possession for him. An experiment. It was all a fancy experiment, and she could have been anyone.

When she was eleven, she had thought magic made her special. Now she knew it was a curse.

***

Katie had felt fine in the beginning of the pregnancy, and there hadn't really been any change in any of the routines. She didn't feel comfortable telling Lestrange about it during his visits, and Marcus never pushed her to when he found out about her reticence. The tiredness was a bother, though. It was awkward, trying to do housework in the most drab robes she could find, only to fall asleep on her feet. The worst of it was having Adrian come into the kitchen for a snack one afternoon during her second month of pregnancy. She had curled in on herself in a corner of the kitchen while trying to scrub the floor, dozing fitfully. She startled awake when he touched her arm, retreating further into the corner. "I'll finish," she insisted before he could say anything. "Don't tell Marcus," she said, the syllables tumbling out of her mouth before she could stop them. "I'll finish up, I'll get everything taken care of. I wasn't being lazy, honest."

He had looked at her with an almost sad expression. "Come on, then. You should sit down."

Katie let him guide her to the table and sat down heavily. He got her a glass of pumpkin juice and she took it almost warily. "Why are you being so nice to me? You hate me."

Adrian looked startled. "I don't hate you."

"Sure you do. You don't look at me when you have to talk to me, and you avoid me the rest of the time. Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about," Katie said tiredly. She propped her head in one hand as Adrian took her pulse on the other.

"You are married to my cousin," he began slowly. "I thought it was a bad idea because of what you've both been through, and you both deserve more than what you're going to get out of this. But you're my cousin now, and you're carrying Marcus' child." He looked at her sadly as he released her wrist. "We're not monsters, but that's all you've ever known of us, isn't it?"

Katie rubbed at her temples, wishing she wasn't too tired for this. "I need to get back to work. He'll be angry with me otherwise."

_"Marcus?"_ Adrian asked, incredulous. "Other than his lab, the man is a slob. Trust me, he won't notice a little dirt on the floor. And why are you doing it by hand anyway? You can barely stay awake at this point."

"How else is it going to get done?" she asked, looking up. "I have too much work to do and not enough time to do it in."

Adrian frowned, as if just realizing something. "I'll talk to Marcus..."

"No!" she cried, eyes wide. "I'll be fine. I just need to rest for a minute. It'll get done, I promise."

Adrian headed straight to the basement lab at that point. He thought of her incoherent screams the first time she had been dragged there, the insistence she would be good and they wouldn't have to hurt her. Did she honestly believe Marcus would harm her if she didn't get the sodding housekeeping done properly?

"Your pregnant wife is scrubbing the floors upstairs," Adrian said. He just realized that he had forgotten his own snack upstairs. "By hand."

Marcus looked up from his journal article, frowning. "So?"

Adrian scrubbed at his face in frustration. "By hand. Like a Muggle." Comprehension still didn't quite dawn on Marcus. "You're going to let a Flint do housework like a fucking _Muggle?"_ He threw his hands up in frustration. "That's it. You're completely mental."

"What are you talking about? She hasn't complained. It keeps her busy."

"It keeps her..." Adrian's voice trailed off in shock. "Those articles you're researching put you right around the twist, haven't they? You haven't realized a damn thing, have you? Your pregnant halfblood wife is on her hands and knees on the floor when she's exhausted enough to pitch headfirst into the bucket of water. Are you _blind?_ Why the fuck isn't she using housekeeping spells like every other housewife?"

Marcus looked at his cousin evenly. "She hasn't got a wand."

"Why not? You cleared her parentage. I see fucking Lestrange here every sodding week like clockwork, all creepy smiles and shit. She's carrying your _child,_ Marcus. You think you can't trust her with a wand?"

"I never thought about it, all right? She hadn't complained, and it's not as if I want to remind her about those ten months of torture." Marcus' voice was clipped, but his anger shone through clearly. Cousin or not, Adrian would likely be hexed if he continued.

"Do you honestly think she's going to complain about _anything_ to you?" Adrian asked, incredulous. "She thinks I hate her. Who knows what she thinks about you." Marcus froze in place, and Adrian had no pleasure in it. "I think she really doesn't understand her place in the family. And it's not helped by the fact that you're a bleeding hermit most of the time. Whatever the circumstances, whatever my thoughts are about it, she's your wife. There's going to be plenty of balls or dinner parties to go to over hols. You need to start putting her out there as your wife."

Marcus rubbed his jaw, anger deflated. "I hate going to those blasted things, you know that. My time is better spent here."

"Your time is better spent with your _wife_ so she doesn't think we're about to slit her throat," Adrian hissed.

"She doesn't think that!" Marcus protested. But it was enough to give him pause; she obviously was hesitant talking to him, wasn't she? And he _knew_ that it was effort on her part not to equate anything he did with her prior torture. _"Fuck,"_ he said in a small voice after a moment. He glowered at the sympathetic expression on Adrian's face. "Shut it."

"I didn't say anything that time," Adrian protested.

"You were fucking going to say 'I told you so,' wanker," Marcus snarled. "You always do."

"Then do something about it," Adrian countered. "Make it so I can't say it. If you're going to do this thing, do it right."

"I don't even know how! Elora did all that stuff! My mum died when I was seven! What the hell do I know what birds like?"

"There's the novel idea of talking to her and asking her," Adrian said dryly, crossing his arms. "It works amazingly well with Marinda."

Marcus glowered at his cousin. "So when are _those_ nuptuals?"

"I'll probably propose at hols. They're making me Director soon," Adrian said quietly. "It's past time I got on with things, don't you think? I can't avoid my father's home forever."

"You'll help me with her, won't you? The checks and things, I mean," Marcus asked. It was only because Adrian knew him so well that he could hear the anxiety in his tone. Marcus was in over his head and quickly realizing it. People were notoriously difficult to manage, and the years had given him the perspective that he didn't have as a boy in Hogwarts. Then, he figured bullying was enough to make people fall into line. It worked well enough on children, but not so well in the real world. Out there, it required more finesse and patience than Marcus possessed.

Adrian nodded and flashed his cousin a thin smile. "Of course, mate. You've got my help as long as you need it."

***

Marcus stopped Katie as she was getting dressed, her movements slow. "I keep forgetting," he murmured, grasping her left hand. As she watched with large eyes, he slipped a ring onto the third finger of her left hand. It was a large solitaire diamond in a gold band. The band was crafted to look like a scaled snake swallowing its tail, an emerald chip inset as the eye. Then he slipped another ring onto her hand, a plain gold band with seven square cut diamonds across the top. "These were my grandmother's," he said quietly.

"Thank you," Katie murmured softly. The rings felt heavy and strange on her hand, though the spells worked into them resized the bands to fit her finger.

"She had arthritis," Marcus explained, his fingers still tracing their way across her knuckles. "She liked working with her hands."

It was a completely random statement, and Katie didn't know how to respond to that. "I have work to do."

"About that," Marcus began. Katie stilled, but Marcus didn't notice. "I made a shopping list for today. I thought we'd do some errands."

"It's Thursday. My father comes on Thursday," she said, no inflection in her tone to betray her thoughts on the matter.

"One Thursday won't matter," Marcus said, moving to the bedside table. "I've started a list, but I thought your input would be best. You know what kind of things you'd need."

Katie placed a hand on her stomach almost protectively as it roiled. "I don't feel good."

Marcus' expression immediately shifted to one of concern, and Katie rushed to the bathroom to attempt to vomit. She had nothing but dry heaves. He knelt behind her, pulling her hair back. He held her hair with one hand and rubbed soothing circles into her lower back. Katie closed her eyes as the wave of nausea passed. "I feel sick. I should stay home."

Something in him was thrilled that she called his house her home, that she trusted him this much. "All right. But we'll make up the list now and go when you feel better." He surreptitiously did a scan during breakfast; she was still healthy, still pregnant. It was likely ordinary morning sickness, as the only thing she could keep down was tea and toast.

Katie had only halfheartedly looked at his list. He put a wand and jewelry on the list, and it seemed like too much of a test to take seriously. Lestrange came in when Marcus was trying to convince her of his sincerity. "What's this?" he asked, his voice oily and smooth. "Katherine, darling. Are you being a trial to your husband?"

It was something in the way his eyes narrowed at her, something about his tone of voice. She remembered the press of his bloodied hand against her face as he told her she needed to be a good brood mare to do right by the families. He had started to push his "blood teas" at her during his visits, and she had been too frightened of him to decline them, even though they tasted vile and she felt even more nauseous afterward.

"Excuse me," she said, voice wavering as her mouth watered. "I feel ill." She clutched at her stomach and dashed to the nearest loo to vomit.

Lestrange turned amused eyes to Marcus. "So the chit's finally with child?"

"Considering it was the second try, I wouldn't think it took too long," Marcus said dryly.

Lestrange laughed. "I suppose not. So what's this about errands in the morning?"

"Wand, jewelry, whatever else she needs."

Lestrange's eyebrow lofted at the first items. "You mean to tell me that my daughter's been treated like a fucking muggle all this time?"

Marcus didn't like the dangerous tone in the older man's voice. "She hasn't needed to do anything. But now with the pregnancy, she'll need to do things for herself without asking me."

"And the jewelry?" Lestrange asked snidely. "I see you've finally given her proper rings."

"It takes time to select something appropriate," Marcus replied, glowering at Lestrange. "I selected those out of my grandmother's extensive collection."

"So one dead woman's jewelry is more appropriate than another's?" the older man asked acidly.

Katie happened to walk into the room in time to hear that remark, as well as Marcus' angry "Leave Elora out of it."

"Just wondering about the propriety of it. Social niceties aren't my usual concern," Lestrange replied in an unctuous tone. He brightened when he saw Katie. "Katherine, love, there you are. Shall we go do these errands of yours?"

"I don't feel well," Katie began, shaking her head.

"Nonsense. You've simply got that ordinary ill feeling pregnant women get. With the two of us with you, you'll be fine."

The only thing that helped Katie feel better was realizing that Marcus hadn't wanted him there either. It annoyed Lestrange that Katie allowed the assistant at Ollivander's to measure her for a wand, even if it was under Ollivander's watchful eye. He remembered every wand he sold, but made no comment about Katie's prior wand or current situation. Marcus told her to select whatever she wanted in the jewelry store, that she should start a new collection of pieces. Lestrange snidely told her to choose the most expensive, and he went about selecting those to give her as gifts. Katie selected the pieces that she liked, which were more understated. Lestrange liked baroque pieces, heavy gold with large, gaudy stones. Marcus presented Katie with a platinum necklace that held a single amethyst pendant. "For luck and good health," he said in a soft tone. It was very much her style, and it was somewhat troubling for Katie to realize he'd been paying that much attention to her.

"You'll be going to the Ministry's masquerade ball next week?" Lestrange asked upon return to Flint's home. "It would be deadly dull without you."

"Masquerade ball?"

"Halloween," Marcus said as Lestrange replied "Costumes are optional, and most don't bother. The domino mask is just a formality. The Halloween and Beltane Victory balls are the high points of the social scene."

Katie watched Marcus nearly grind his teeth before he said "Of course we'll be there."

Lestrange smiled like a shark. "I'll be waiting."

Katie cornered Marcus after Lestrange left. "What is this thing? Who's going to be there?"

Marcus grimaced. "The Ministry sponsors two balls a year, plus various parties for hols. Only the elite are invited. I don't like going."

"Why not?"

"I'm an antisocial bastard. Ask anyone."

Katie wasn't about to touch that line at all. "What about me? What am I going to do there?"

Marcus had that mask on his face again. "You're a Lestrange married to a Flint. You're part of the the elite, even if you're a halfblood. You'll do whatever it is they do at parties. They're not anything special."

But a seamstress arrived to make special dress robes, and the ball was held in the heart of the Ministry. Katie recognized a few faces from school, though she couldn't remember their names. She had been too involved in Quidditch, and in her seventh year she was too busy trying to catch up. Now she was going to have to meet them and make friends.

Ginny Weasley was next to Draco Malfoy. She was exquisitely dressed in a pale lavender and silver gown with tasteful jewelry at all points. Katie had never seen her looking quite so elegant. Marcus noted her line of sight and nodded. "She's Gryffindor. You must have known her."

"She's younger, but was on the Quidditch team."

"I have to talk to Malfoy anyway. She can do introductions this evening."

Marcus was scowling, only fractionally deeper than his usual one. He really didn't enjoy this kind of thing at all, making Katie wonder why he was bothering at all. He introduced her as his wife, and she was greeted warmly. He and Draco talked about financial matters as Ginny gave Katie a tight hug. "It's so good to see you!"

"I didn't think I'd see any of you again," Katie admitted.

"You disappeared after the Battle," Ginny murmured in a low tone. "A lot happened in the months afterward. This isn't the time or place to talk about it, though." She smiled brightly at Katie. "But! This isn't a place for children, or else you'd see my three little monsters. Let's go over there. Draco can talk finances for ages, and it's a bore."

Confused, Katie let Ginny lead her away. "You and Draco Malfoy?" she asked, some of her incredulity in her voice. "When did that happen?"

"My sixth year, actually," Ginny replied easily. Katie could hear the underlying tension, but this wasn't the place to ask about it. "It was... odd, I guess. But it made sense at the time adn really, I don't regret a thing." Ginny smiled at Katie, and she could tell it was genuine. "Now, let me introduce you to our little circle."

It turned out to be Pansy Parkinson, Luna Lovegood Zabini, Millicent Bulstrode Longbottom, Aurora Pucey-Whitford, Eleanore Vaisey and Lorraine Higgs. While most of the group seemed to be fairly welcoming, Lorraine sniffed at Katie in disdain. "Don't think you can be Elora," she sniped.

Katie looked at her blankly. "Who's Elora?" It wasn't the first time she had heard the name.

Eleanore glared at Lorraine. "No one. Don't worry about it. Look, I think your brother's leaving with Astoria Greengrass."

Lorraine stomped off; she couldn't stand that family and didn't intend to let her younger brother Terence marry into it.

"Merlin, what an awful cow. I can't believe we're stuck with her," Eleanore muttered. "Dammit, I could use a fag about now."

"You quit," Aurora reminded her. "Anyway, Buford Starling might be interested, and he wouldn't let her spend time with our sort."

Millicent snickered. "We can dream."

The time seemed to pass quickly afterward for Katie. The women were almost normal, and quickly looped her into their gossip circles. Apparently, the rumor mill had it that her marriage to Marcus followed a whirlwind courtship, and that Lestrange had kept her existence a secret to ensure her safety during the war and its aftermath. He hadn't wanted to reveal her publicly until he could ensure her safety. Katie didn't argue with that version of events, as it made everything seem terribly normal.

And then Katie caught sight of Ruisart Nott on the other side of the ballroom with his son Theodore and Augustus Rookwood. What little she had eaten seemed like a lead weight in her gut. She knew she was pale, her hand over her stomach as if she could protect the unborn child within her. Ginny stepped into her line of vision. "Let's get you to the loo. The shrimp was off, wasn't it?" she asked soothingly. The others in the group hadn't noticed why she had gone pale, at least.

"The shrimp seemed fine," Millicent said.

"Or are congratulations in order?" Pansy asked, eyes sharp.

"If so, it's bad luck to say anything until she's had sond powder to be sure it's healthy," Luna said. She smiled encouragingly at Katie. "I'll send you some."

Lestrange approached. "I see morning sickness is a misnomer," he remarked, taking in Katie's appearance. "I wanted to introduce you to the right sort of Ministry contacts."

Katie could feel Ginny bristle beside her. Considering Lestrange had left her alone for the past hour, she wasn't as inclined to go with him. Marcus had at least been looking in her direction, even if he hadn't come to her in person. "I'm not feeling well," she murmured. "Please excuse me."

Katie did throw up in the loo, then sat in the waiting area for a spell. Ginny looked at her sympathetically. "I think the first one's the hardest. You don't know what to expect." She sat down beside Katie. "Not that two or three or even four are any better, but you at least know what's coming by then."

"Four?" Katie asked dumbly. "But you said you have three..."

Ginny patted her own stomach, still flat like Katie's. "Only seven weeks along at this point. I just told Draco yesterday. He'd been away for the past month. But it's like that for him. He's High Inquisitor, after all."

Katie nodded as if she knew what that even meant. "Congratulations, then."

Ginny grinned, clearly pleased. "The Ministry is encouraging larger families, but we'd have this many anyway. Our sons are such a joy."

Katie nodded, feeling as if she was starting to droop. "I'm so tired. I think I should go home."

"That's best," Ginny agreed. "Perhaps I could call on you at your home? You're too exhausted to make the trip to Malfoy Manor. By the time you get your energy back, I'll be exhausted," Ginny added with a grin.

Katie answered it with a smile she didn't feel. Ginny brought her to Marcus, who was discussing politics with Draco, Malcolm Baddock, Vaisey and Gregory Goyle. He took one look at Katie's drawn face and excused himself. "I'd better get my wife home," he said in a quiet tone. "I'll speak with you all later."

"You've done wonders for him," Vaisey said with a smile. "He was such a hermit over the past few years. I'm glad you're getting him out of that house every once in a while."

Katie smiled wanly and nodded. "I'll try."

They took the floo back to Flint's house. "What happened?" Marcus asked in a low growl. "Did one of those harpies say something?"

She shook her head, insides roiling. She turned and went up the stairs to Marcus' suite. He followed her, and Katie picked up speed, her heart hammering in her chest. She was suddenly afraid, her tongue thick and useless in her mouth. She made it to the bedroom, though it didn't seem to help her panic levels. All she could see in her mind's eye was the dark of the cell and Nott's leering face.

Marcus caught up with her easily, laying a hand on her bare shoulder. His breath was warm and moist on the back of her neck, and Katie panicked. Flailing her arms, Katie spun out away from him, yelping in terror. She tripped over her own gown, falling heavily to the floor. She scrabbled backward until she hit the dresser, the knobs digging painfully into her sides. She panted, covering her face and head with her arms, skirts spread out around her in a wide circle. Marcus knelt down, approaching slowly. "Katie," he said, his tone even. "Did he touch you? Did he even come near you?"

At the sound of the concern in his voice, Katie let her arms fall. She took in the bedroom and his expression, then shook her head, biting her lip. "I can't stop remembering," she wailed, covering her face with her hands.

Marcus pulled her to his chest and she bawled, clutching at him desperately. His arms went around, but it felt comforting instead of terrifying. "I'd kill him if I could get away with it," he said, lips pressed against her hair as he stroked her back. "Tell me, he said in a low tone. "What happened to you?"

It was concern in his voice, not morbid curiosity. She tripped through the story, stuttering in places and telling it out of sequence. He followed it well, but he knew about the end results of the abuse anyway. Katie was wrung out at the end of it. "I wish I could forget," Katie sobbed. "Can't you make me forget?"

Marcus shook his head. "I'd... It'd be a mistake. The only other time I've used Obliviate on someone, I erased their entire memory. I couldn't do that to you," he said in a low tone.

"What does it matter? You experiment on me all the time. Why not this? It should be easy enough for you to do."

"This would be anything but easy," he growled, a hand caught tightly in her hair. Pins dug painfully into her scalp, but Katie ignored it. That tone of voice, the grip he held her with... It was genuine emotion. He wasn't just pretending to be disturbed by this situation, wasn't lying to get into her good graces. He _cared._ The thought was almost disturbing.

Katie brushed the tears from her face as he let go of her hair. "Then make me forget for a little while. I don't want to remember."

She launched herself at him, attaching her mouth to his. Katie lacked finesse, but at this point, she knew what Marcus liked. She struggled out of her dress, and Marcus helped her slip out of it the rest of the way before shedding his own clothing. He kissed her, hot and open, his tongue sliding in to caress hers. She had her hands on his shoulders for balance as she knelt in front of him. He tipped her back gently onto the floor, then moved to kiss her neck and suckle a breast. Katie tangled her fingers in his hair and moaned in encouragement. Marcus licked a trail down to the juncture of her thighs, then moved to lick and tease her folds. Katie made soft mewling noises, then gasped out "Wait. I want..." She grasped his hardening cock in one hand. "This. Can I...?" Katie shook her head when Marcus moved to position himself at her entrance. She shimmied on the floor and took him into her mouth.

Marcus sucked in a breath, then lowered himself carefully over her so that he could lick her clit at the same time. She moved slowly and carefully at first, then gradually discovered what he liked. He sucked on her clit, liking the way she moaned around his cock, groaning as she sucked harder. "Yeah, like that," he growled. When he was close to coming, he tried to pull back. Katie pulled on his hips to keep him in place. Marcus growled low in his throat and pushed his tongue inside her slit. Katie sucked harder as she moaned, and it was just enough to send him over the edge. Katie swallowed him down without complaint, her hands kneading his backside gently.

Marcus pulled out of her mouth, then moved to kneel between her legs. "You're _mine,_ Katie," he growled, lifting her hips to his mouth. He thrust his tongue into her, hearing her groan. Her fingers scrabbled at the carpet, her back arched. He worked her past her orgasm, hearing her cries turn into whining gasps. He slid a finger inside of her as he continued to suck and lave her clit with his tongue, then a second. He curled them inside her, feeling her come again. Seeing her writhe for him in pleasure was getting his cock to begin twitching again.

He continued working her clit with his tongue until he was half hard and she was panting, nearly shrieking at even the lightest touch of his tongue to her. Marcus adjusted her hips and lifted one leg to his shoulder as he knelt between her thighs. He thrust home, deeply into her. "Fuck," he groaned, reveling in the feel of her around him. "You were made for me, weren't you? Merlin, you feel fucking fantastic."

Katie moaned and reached for him, running her fingertips along his back. He pumped deeply inside of her, and she wanted even more of him. She came again, and still he thrust into her. "Marcus," she gasped, back arching. "Oh, God, there."

Marcus thrust harder and faster, carpet digging into his knees. Her head lolled on the floor, eyes closed as she drowned in sensation. "Look at me," he growled. "Look at me. I'm the one inside you. I'm the one with you."

She opened her eyes briefly, a look of pure lust on her face. She came again, her body tight around him like a vise. Groaning, Marcus pulled out of her. Katie protested weakly. "Hands and knees," he directed, voice thick and heavy with need. She did so, and Marcus grasped her hip. He plunged deeply inside of her, and Katie made a soft keening noise of pleasure. She lifted her hips to try to meet his thrusts. Marcus held her hips tightly, holding her in place as he moved fast and hard. "God, like that," Katie moaned, arms collapsing beneath her. She pressed her face into the carpet. "Harder," she gasped.

Marcus obliged, his grip on her hips even tighter. She'd bruise, but he liked the idea of marking her, of showing her who she belonged to. She'd never be with anyone else again, never had to be afraid again. She was _his,_ and he'd kill to protect her.

Her body clenched tight around him, trying to milk him as she came. Marcus was less sensitive now that he had already come, and it was definitely helping with Katie's request. There was a thin sheen of sweat over their bodies, and Katie was exhausted. Marcus withdrew and pulled her up to her knees. He propped her up on the edge of the bed, and she leaned heavily against it. He slide into her from behind, feeling her wet and loose and slick around him. Katie was clutching the bed to stay upright, her head leaning against the top of it. Marcus swept the loose tendrils of hair aside and pressed his lips to her neck. He covered her hands with his, their fingers interlacing. "You were made for me," he growled against her neck, thrusting hard up into her. "You're mine, no one else's. You're _mine."_

The fierce possessiveness in his voice made Katie shudder. "Yes," she whimpered, hands tightening on the coverlet. "Yes."

When she came again, Marcus was close to coming again himself. He withdrew and picked her up. He laid her gently down on the bed, then slid inside her slowly. "Watch me," he growled, moving slowly at first. Her eyes fluttered open, and she watched him move inside her, looked at where their bodies were joined. She tilted her hips up to meet his, and it deepened his stroke. She groaned in pleasure, and Marcus picked up speed. He slammed into her deeply, growling with need. "You feel amazing," he groaned. He moved fast and hard, grunting with the effort. Her body grasped his, tried to pull him in deeper. He came in a rush, giving a hoarse shout. A few more thrusts, his thumb at her clit, and she cried out as well.

"We made a mess," she murmured, her arms around him. Funny how comfortable that felt.

"That's how you know we're doing it right," Marcus replied, his laughter a low rumble as it moved through her. That was comforting, too.

She fell into an exhausted sleep and didn't dream. Marcus dreamt of dark-haired children with green eyes like Katie's.

***  
***


	8. Finding A Place

Ginny looked over at Katie in the parlor. It had been a little over a week since the Ministry ball, and Ginny had waited until a formal introduction was made before coming to the Flint House. She had known about Katie the moment her name had crossed Draco's desk, and she had seen everything in the file once it had been completed. Seeing Katie's face the instant she saw Ruisart Nott at the ball had been more than enough to make her recall that file. "You look great, Katie," Ginny said honestly. "You look like you've lived here all your life."

Katie looked up at Ginny with hollow eyes. "You know I haven't. This whole thing is new to me. What have I missed?"

She set up a number of privacy wards in response, and Katie's eyebrows crawled up toward her hairline. When she settled back into her seat for tea and biscuits, she pulled back her sleeves slightly. There were two silver cuffs at her wrists, each inscribed with delicate designs and runes that were centered around the Malfoy family seal. "My magic is limited," Ginny began quietly. "No offensive spells. Just ordinary daily household magic, defensive spells, that sort of thing. Though Draco knows full well that even defensive and household spells can be used offensively if it comes down to it. This is a formality, but it's a very necessary one. Just like the formality that we're technically not married, and that he could legally marry another witch from another family if it really comes down to it. But everyone knows that he loves me, and that I love him, and that our children are his heirs. It's..." Ginny faltered slightly. "There were conditions for survival after Harry was killed. You were there, but I lost track of you."

"I just left," Katie murmured softly. "It was so confusing, and everyone was shouting that Harry was dead and the rest of us were to be killed. I couldn't stay for that."

Ginny nodded. "I'd hoped that was what it was. No one could really find each other in the aftermath. A lot of people conveniently went missing. My oldest brothers Bill and Charlie left the country with their families. I don't see them, but I hear they're doing well. Percy wormed his way back into the Ministry." Ginny looked away from Katie's open expression. "Ron and the twins were killed outright. They were too close to Harry, too much a part of what he was doing."

"You survived," Katie said after a moment, when Ginny had stopped talking.

"Draco," Ginny said quietly, tracing the Malfoy crest on one of her silver cuffs. "He asked to speak with the Dark Lord. He could've been killed right there for his presumption, but he made sense. Too many had died in raids and on the battlefield that day. And we were all misguided fools, led astray by Dumbledore and his tool, Harry Potter. That if Harry had been raised properly, if the rest of us had been raised properly, then we all could have been assets, and the wars could have been avoided. He suggested binding our magic, controlling us if necessary, but keeping us to breed." She looked up from the silver crest to Katie's startled expression. "It's a cold reason, but he accepted that. And so Draco managed to save most of us. Hermione, Ron and the twins were killed right away. They were too close, and killing them was to serve as a warning to rest of us."

"I'm sorry," Katie murmured, clenching her hands together. She hadn't been there; she had run as soon as she saw Harry's body.

"This is the foundation for everything. That's how everything began six years ago. It's blood status and money and privilege, all the snobbery they could possibly throw into it. And for the most part, life went on unchanged. Draco was seen as someone with good sense. Not a fighter, not a tactician, but someone who was willing to do the dirty work and make things work out. So he was placed in the Inquisitor's Squad, and his parents retired to France. He took on more and more responsibility, and was finally made High Inquisitor. He's allowed to leave England and to leave the Wizarding World for his investigations. He looks into all of the muggleborn sales, and he makes sure that the dealers follow the letter of the law."

Katie had gone pale. "So he knows about me."

"He helped file the paperwork that shut down Nott's distribution." Ginny's voice was quiet and sympathetic. "And I know everything he knows. He sometimes bounces ideas off of me."

"Did you suggest me to Marcus, then?" she asked in a tight voice.

Ginny shook her head. "Draco only investigates the muggleborns that are documented. Nott didn't file any paperwork on your capture for at least nine months, and he certainly never mentioned any of the damage he'd done." She reached out and took one of Katie's chilled hands in hers. "Marcus is a good man, for all that he's just as prejudiced as the others. Most of them were raised that way. There isn't much that Draco can do to help muggleborns, but he does try. It's probably for my sake," she added with a wry smile, "but at least he does it. Their situation could be worse, but he's started to warn families that show signs of having muggleborn children. They soon mysteriously leave the country for places kinder to muggleborns."

"What happens if they don't leave?" Katie asked, her voice shaking slightly.

"Most don't figure out what they're doing is magic," Ginny said in a quiet voice. "That happened a lot the first year Draco was in the Inquisitor's Squad. They're left alone. The ones that try to figure out what they're doing are captured, just like muggleborn adults." Like you, she didn't have to say.

"I'm no different than I was before. I didn't change suddenly just because I've been legally declared a halfblood."

"No, you're not. But now you're considered my cousin by marriage, so there are a lot more things you're allowed to do."

Katie nodded, not about to deny that truth. "He's... I can't even think of him as my father, most of the time. He's creepy and keeps talking about blood. He gives me these awful blood teas and he attacked me a few times." Ginny nodded sympathetically and poured Katie more tea. "But Marcus is all right." She could feel a blush rise along her cheeks just thinking about Marcus and the way he touched her.

Ginny laughed. "Like I said, he's a good man. He was all full of growls and glares when Draco first took me home, but he's never been mean. For someone that thinks society functions are stupid and a waste of time, he actually helped Draco teach me what was expected. And Elora..."

"Who was she?" Katie asked when Ginny's laughter dried up.

"His wife. His first wife, I mean. Elora Montague. His best friend's sister. They were married right after the war, and Elora was one of the first pureblood Slytherin girls that befriended me. For someone that was used to getting her own way, she was actually rather sweet. I know she was trying so hard to get pregnant, and was so disappointed that it wasn't happening. Marcus didn't care about that, and he was just happy she was with him. When she died..." Ginny sipped her tea. "It devastated him. It was a lab accident of some kind, a containment spell that failed. The house was on quarantine for a month. When we saw him again..." She shook her head. "I can't even explain it. He was changed somehow. Not really mean, but almost. More growly and angry. He all but disappeared from society for almost a year. We had to drag him places, us and Adrian and Vaisey and whoever else he could tolerate at the time."

Katie had seen how precise his casting had been, how rigid and in control of his magic he was. There was no way one of his containment spells would have failed.

She remained silent, however, and the conversation turned to pregnancy concerns and Ginny's three sons. It was safer to talk about children, about what to expect and how things were in this blood status-obsessed society. There was a coiled tension inside of Ginny when she spoke of certain things, and Katie couldn't help but think that there was more to it. It sounded as though Draco was going beyond the measure of his profession to start subverting the system. Ginny would of course help a cause like that, and Katie could hardly expect her to shout about it. There wasn't much Katie could do at this point to help, even if Ginny did discuss details. Her world was a narrow one, and she couldn't see herself expanding it all that quickly. Ginny had been forced to make friends with the pureblood Slytherins that Draco knew, and his political role was a rather public and important one. Marcus was a Potions Master, and had become something of a recluse in the years before he had purchased Katie from Nott. There were few people he interacted with regularly, let alone their wives or families. He seemed loath to even look anyone not of an appropriate blood status.

"Tell me about Elora," Katie murmured as they sat together at dinner that night. Marcus looked up with a stony expression, his eyes carefully blank. "I've been hearing that name a lot lately, as if I'm supposed to know who that is."

"It doesn't matter."

"Then it wouldn't hurt to tell me," Katie countered.

The corner of his eye twitched in annoyance. "This won't come to anything good," he intoned, leaning back in his chair. Katie wasn't sure if it was meant to be intimidating or not.

"She killed herself, didn't she?" Katie asked baldly.

Marcus left the table.

Katie threw down her napkin and followed him into his lab. His steps were short and jerky, his jaw clenched tight. He started shuffling papers on his desk when she approached, and shook her hand off when she tried to place it on his arm. "Everyone mentioned her as if I should have known who she was. Ginny said it was a lab accident, that a containment spell failed. But your spells don't fail. You've never made a mistake like that."

He turned and glared at her. "Sure of that, are you? We've nearly killed you more than once with our experiments, if you recall. At any moment, I might still kill you. You could be internally bleeding right this moment because the potions didn't hold."

She hadn't thought of that. Well, she _had,_ but it wasn't a moment to moment thing. It couldn't be, or she would drive herself insane.

"I know that you're careful. That you do whatever possible to make sure things like that don't happen. That you're so politically correct so that no one can say anything about you. I know that much." Katie looked at his stern face, the drawn lines around his mouth that surely hadn't been there even a month ago. "What happened, then?"

Marcus looked at her, his eyes raking over her face. He took her by the arm and marched her out of the lab. "What did she tell you?"

"That you'd been happy together, and Elora was a sweetheart to everyone. She'd been trying to get pregnant, and you didn't care about that." Katie looked at the stony mask on his face. She wasn't frightened of it, but she was afraid for what he was going to say. It wasn't going to be a pretty story.

He sat her down in one of the small parlors on the first floor. He shut the door, even though there was no one else in the house. Mentally, he needed that indication of privacy and space to talk. "She was my best friend's sister," he said in a quiet voice, his back to Katie. "A complete and utter bitch if she had to be, but she didn't often have to be. She was protective of the people she cared about, and would do anything to help them if she could. Anything." He fell silent, crossing his arms over his chest. He dropped his head down so that he must have been looking at the floor, though he still couldn't look at Katie or her sympathetic expression. "She was more upset than I was that it wasn't working. She wanted to have a child so badly, wanted to prove she could be a good wife and mother and be the perfect Death Eater's wife. Society is all snide remarks and innuendo. I can't deal with that shite. But that was her world. That was her entire life."

"You loved her a lot," Katie murmured, her stomach clenched. She knew how this ended, but it didn't make it any easier to hear the pain in Marcus' voice.

"Yeah." Marcus turned slightly, taking in her expression. "Yeah. I did." He moved to sit beside her on the uncomfortable sofa. "How did you know she killed herself?"

Katie winced at his monotone question. "I was hoping that isn't how it happened. But you're careful, and there never could've been an accident of that kind of magnitude in the house unless your containment spells were tampered with. And Ginny said that Elora was so upset that she couldn't get pregnant."

He didn't touch her, though his hand tightened on his own knees. "I didn't care. I kept telling her that it didn't matter, that if she stopped being so upset about it, something would happen. But every month, she got more and more frantic. I told her she was more than just a breeder."

"She didn't believe that," Katie guessed.

"She wanted a child so badly, and it wasn't happening. She wanted _me_ to have a child, and she was telling me to take someone to bed just to have an heir. I wouldn't do that to her," Marcus said, his words clipped and angry. Katie reached for his hand without even thinking about it, and grasped it tightly. "I talked about adoption, and that set her off. I didn't know about the breach until after I found her note on my desk."

"I'm sorry," Katie murmured after he fell silent.

He looked down at their twined hands. "Why? It had nothing to do with you. It still has nothing to do with you. There aren't even pictures left. I burned all of them except our wedding photos. Those are boxed up with the rest of her things in the attic." He carefully put her hand down in her lap. "So now you know, and you can gossip about it if you like."

"I wouldn't—"

"It doesn't matter. She's dead now, anyway," he continued in a flat tone. "And you're the one carrying my child. You're the only one society will care about soon enough, assuming both you and the child survive." There was something in his tone that sent chills down her spine. "And it's just as well that it's you and not her."

"What do you mean?" Katie asked, almost afraid of the answer.

"She's dead because she loved me too much. That will never happen with you," he said abruptly, standing. "You don't love me and you never could, after all that's happened. That's just the way it should be."

Stricken, Katie could only watch as Marcus left the parlor, closing the door quietly behind him.

She wasn't entirely sure he was right.

***

The night Marcus discussed Elora, he had kissed her hard and taken her roughly. Katie hadn't been afraid of him, and had clung to him while the sensation washed over her. Afterward, when he had collapsed on top of her, breathing still harsh and uneven, Katie had lightly traced the muscles of his back. "So what is this between us, then?" she asked softly. "If you don't love me and I can't love you?"

He was quiet for a moment. "This is pleasant, isn't it? That's what I said I wanted. This is pleasant, and we're cordial. It's all you can ask for in a marriage nowadays."

His words were careful, but Katie thought that perhaps she was starting to understand him better now. Saying something like this at the start of this tangled game left her with a hollow feeling, a disappointment she was unable to fully verbalize. Now she thought that perhaps he wasn't allowing himself to hope for more. If he didn't ask for anything, he wouldn't have to be disappointed. He wouldn't have to be hurt. He wouldn't have to lose anyone ever again.

"Is that how it was between your parents? They were cordial?" she asked.

"I suppose. My mother died when I was young. Then my father died while I was in my first seventh year. They talked, I suppose. I don't remember them arguing, at least."

Katie curled up on her side to face him when he rolled off of her. "My mum never had serious boyfriends when I was little. It was mostly just us. I couldn't imagine living with someone and not growing close to them."

Marcus eyed her askance. "Oh?"

"Sometimes, when you know things, it binds you." Katie saw the flicker of recognition in his eyes. "There can be caring in it, can't there?"

Marcus slid his hand down her side, then let it rest gently on the curve of her hip, his thumb brushing against the gentle rise of her stomach. It was starting to round a bit, just the barest hint of the life that lay within. "I suppose, but I don't see why."

"Oh."

"You need your rest. No need to borrow trouble. There's enough to worry about as it is."

The days seemed to slide together after that. Marcus did scans daily, and Adrian arrived every Friday morning to assess her health and the health of the growing child. Although Katie had hoped he would forbid the hideous blood tea that Lestrange insisted on making for her, Adrian kept assuring her that a few drops of Lestrange's blood wasn't actually going to harm her. He said likewise of whatever else Luna decided to send her, and the sweets that Pansy and Millicent sent as congratulations. Everything appeared normal, and hols were uneventful. Katie was aware of Marcus' background worry by then. She might still die any day now, and so could the child within her. The day Adrian could tell the baby's sex, all things seemed to stand still for Katie. "I'll go and let Marcus know," Adrian began, lowering his wand.

"Let me," Katie murmured, looking up at him. "I'll tell him." Adrian merely nodded and shrugged, as it wasn't very important for him. But Katie descended into the lab to find Marcus busy working on a manuscript he intended to send in to one of his potions journals. "Marcus."

"I'm busy, you can see that. Why not call for tea with one of those friends of yours?" he asked, not even looking up.

"We're having a son, Marcus," Katie said, resting her fingertips on the edge of the desk.

He stilled and looked up. "A son?"

Katie nodded and watched him carefully. Before his expression closed off, there almost seemed to be a flash of hope there. It was gone as quickly as it came, and he merely nodded at her. "Thank you for telling me."

She started to reach out for him to touch his shoulder when he looked back down at his manuscript again, but hesitated and then drew back. He had summarily dismissed her. He usually didn't need to bellow or growl at her, as she generally didn't try to interrupt him. She had even started leaving the house recently, and he had said nothing. Whatever response she had hoped for, this wasn't it.

"I could start to get a nursery ready," she offered in a quiet tone.

"Don't bother," Marcus said abruptly. He looked up at the squeak of surprise that Katie let out. "There could be problems. There could be complications. He might not survive long enough to use a nursery." His hand was tight on his quill, nearly breaking it. "You don't need to get your hopes up yet."

"But he's healthy. I'm healthy. It's worked..."

"We don't know that yet," he replied icily. This was the tone that could slice someone to ribbons, and Katie stilled at hearing it directed at her. _Don't fight me,_ he had told her once upon a time in a similar tone. She shivered and nearly backed up a step. "We won't know for a while yet if it's worked. I won't take that chance."

Katie's breath stopped in her chest as she fell under his intense gaze. She nodded weakly, and he turned back to his manuscript. His grip was still tight on it, and his jaw was locked in place. She wanted to shake him, to tell him that he was the one borrowing trouble.

Only, she remembered all too well the fever and chills she had not too long ago, and the sensation of blood running down her back. He was right. They _didn't_ know, even if it looked like she would be fine.

"Then what would you have me do?"

Marcus carefully put down his quill and rubbed at his eyes tiredly. She didn't want to think about what his worries might be like. "Whatever you were doing before is fine, isn't it?"

She fell into a chair beside his desk. "I get so tired, still. It's getting better, but it's not the energy that Adrian and Ginny told me it would be." She looked at his still face, recognizing the flat eyes as his way of controlling worry. "Even with a wand, it takes a long time to do anything."

"So take a nap. You don't need to do anything if you don't want to. I don't care if the floors are polished or not."

"All right," she murmured softly. "I'll let you work, then."

She woke some time later, vaguely hungry and definitely groggy. Marcus was sitting by the side of the bed, his wand in his hands. He was staring at the smooth wood when she stirred, and he turned to look at her. "You're doing well," he said quietly. "For now."

"Do I need to do anything else? More potions?" she asked, rubbing at her eyes as she tried to wake up.

Marcus slid one hand along her shoulder. "Just keep up what you're doing." He cupped her face in his hand. "It seems to be doing all right so far."

But he still worried, she could tell. That worry might not fade for some time. Katie didn't know if she should be worried, but she felt all right. She opened her mouth beneath his when he kissed her, and leaned into his touch. He traced the curve of her hip, then the swell of her belly. She would grow faster now, Adrian had warned her. There were four months left to her pregnancy, assuming she made it that far, and now would be the time for the child to grow in earnest.

And if the spells and potions didn't hold, now was the time he would rupture her womb, splitting it apart and causing her to bleed to death.

Katie parted her legs for him, and Marcus knelt between them. "Marcus," she whimpered softly. She squeezed her eyes shut when he grasped her hips roughly, when he pushed inside her before she quite ready. It was almost enough to draw a gasp of fear from her, almost enough to make her remember a darkened cell and frightening laughter. But then his lips fell upon her neck, his breath warm and moist against her jaw before he moved to kiss her lips. That drove the remnant of memory away.

He tangled one hand in her hair, and he was murmuring against the skin of her chest. It sounded almost like "You're going to be fine" over the roar of rushing blood in her ears. _Oh, Marcus,_ she wanted to say, but her breath fractured on a deep stroke and she couldn't find the words any longer. She clung to him, moaning his name as she came.

Marcus collapsed on top of her afterward, his hand still tangled in her hair and the other clutching at the sheets desperately, his face tucked into the curve of her neck. His breathing was as harsh and ragged as her own. This was more than just an experiment, wasn't it? This was more than just fucking her to get her with child. She was already pregnant, and he didn't have to bring her to such ecstatic heights each and every time. He had said he cared once, and there had been little courtesies from the very beginning.

Maybe she was just as afraid to hope for more as he was.

***

It was strange how the days moved past so quickly. Katie didn't realize it until it was difficult for her to walk to the village, her breath coming in short gasps by the time she made it to the village square on market days. Her belly was round and full, so very obviously pregnant, and she could feel her son move within her at regular intervals. It had been like a butterfly caught inside her stomach the first time, but gradually she could feel him push and prod at her, exploring the limits of her womb. Somehow, it didn't surprise her that he would be like his father this way.

Katie looked at herself in the mirror in amazement sometimes. There were the familiar potions and creams and whatever else Marcus told her to take in the morning, but it didn't seem real until she saw the swell of her belly in the mirror. _This is me,_ she thought, tracking the curve of her belly and the slight protrusion where her navel had been. _This is really my life now._ It still seemed surreal.

She slept on her side, Marcus curled protectively around her back. When he came to her, she couldn't lie back any longer. She had to straddle his waist to take him inside, and he sometimes held a hand along the front of her stomach, helping her keep her balance. Or he bent her over the edge of the bed, so that she could balance herself on her arms. If his touch gentled slightly, she didn't question it. If she felt comfortable and safe and protected, she didn't question it. He and Ginny had been right; the world had changed so drastically while she was gone, and she had only started to realize it once she left the confines of the Flint home.

It was odd, but she almost didn't mind Lestrange's visits. He was still scary, but she had gotten used to him. He hadn't even tried to berate her for her lack of knowledge of the Pureblood elite, as he used to do, and he seemed to be in a good mood every time he visited. Katie could only suppose that it was the thought of being a grandfather, that he had some kind of family to call his own now. His smiles were creepy, but he didn't threaten her any longer. Katie almost felt safe going on outings with him, and he seemed to be civil, if not almost sane during those trips. She did like the gardens at the Lestrange estate, and he stopped implying that she was somehow deficient in some way. Katie wondered if surviving the first few months of their acquaintance was something like a hazing ritual, and now that she had passed, he could stop terrifying her.

But she never once thought of him as anything less than coldblooded if he had to be.

By her eighth month of pregnancy, Katie had settled into this life she found herself in. Things were familiar and comfortable, and if anyone asked her, she would have said that nothing bothered her anymore.

That was true until she saw Ruisart Nott on Diagon Alley by accident.

If she was alone, she would have turned tail and ran away, sure the entire time that he would chase her down. If she was with Ginny, she knew that Ginny would pull her into a shop and would have her browse for things until Nott passed. If she was with Marcus, they would have gone about their business pretending that nothing happened. If she was with Lestrange, they would have marched right up to the bastard to talk, and Katie would have felt sick the entire time.

But she wasn't entirely alone on this particular occasion, was she? She was eight months pregnant, her son settled comfortably beneath her ribs. Marcus hadn't wanted to get anything ready for the nursery yet, but Katie wasn't willing to wait any longer. Adrian had said that their son could possibly survive if he was born now, though there seemed to be no indication that she was about to go into early labor or that her uterus would rupture. Katie left Marcus working on his manuscript, as the journal he planned to publish in requested a few changes. She hadn't mentioned her plan to look at clothes and nursery furniture, though she had plenty of discussions with Ginny about what she might need. For her son's sake, she couldn't simply run in a shiver of panic. She had to be strong for his sake, and she would have to face Nott sooner or later.

Whatever she thought she would feel at the sight of him, revulsion, panic and flashbacks had always been at the top of her list. Then his gaze slid over her and kept going, as if he didn't recognize her. Anger burned through her suddenly; it was more than hatred for what he did or what he represented. Suddenly she wanted him to _see_ her, to acknowledge what he did and to at least apologize. She wanted him to know how despicable he was, how much she loathed him and what had happened. She wanted him to feel even a fraction of the loathing she had held for herself all those months in that cell as he had abused her. It had been irrational, of course. It wasn't as if she had let it happen. She had fought him as hard as she could, but nothing helped. None of it had stopped the abuse until he was ready to move on to a new victim.

Katie marched after him with singleminded determination. He left Gringott's and was walking toward Knockturn Alley. Katie reached him at that point and grasped his arm. His gaze slid over her without recognition again. Well, she had filled out since he had seen her last, and she had three weeks until her due date. She was different, but she knew she didn't look so completely different as to be unrecognizable. She had no plan of what to say, no intention other than to make him feel her pain.

"What do you want?" he asked, bored. That tone was still a reflection of pure evil as far as Katie was concerned, but her anger seemed to protect her from recoiling in misery.

"You kidnapped me almost two years ago," Katie began, hearing the anger in her voice. "You killed my mother and my brother and you _took_ me to a dungeon in your basement." She could almost feel her hands shaking, and she balled them into fists to keep them steady. Her wand was in her sleeve, she reminded herself. She wasn't helpless or chained or at his mercy. She was free, she had a life and she _mattered._

He looked her up and down. "If that was true, you shouldn't be here," he told her flatly. He took in her angry expression, the flash of her eyes and suddenly took a half step back. "Wait. Are you Roddy's bastard brat? Is that it? I've already paid the bastard for you," he spat. "That's done."

"It's _not_ done," Katie hissed, jaw tight. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and she was sure it would simply explode. "You gave _him_ money, but you never said anything to _me._ You never made it up to _me."_

Nott's lip curled. "What for? You were nothing at the time. You didn't matter. You're just lucky he decided to claim you instead of kill you. Now, I have actual business to attend to..."

The callous dismissal of her pain was too much. She had already been agitated, and it had woken up her unborn son. His fluttering kicks against her stomach only seemed to heighten her agitation. Katie could feel her magic rise beneath her skin, a tense feeling as if it would burst right out of her. She hadn't done much magic even after her new wand had been purchased. It had all been light housekeeping charms or cosmetic charms. She hadn't done any kind of cursework or hexing or serious magic.

Katie didn't even reach into her sleeve for her wand. The magic burst out of her, hitting Nott squarely in the chest. His eyes were wide and startled, and he was thrown across Knockturn Alley, into a brick wall. Katie advanced steadily, teeth grit and hands balled so tightly she could feel blood in her palms where her nails were digging in. That shock on his face wasn't good enough. It wasn't enough pain, it wasn't even close to the nightmare she had lived in for nearly ten months. "Ten months," she hissed as she approached. "I lost my family and _ten months_ of my life because of your ignorance and hatred and stupidity! I lost _everything_ and don't you fucking dare to tell me that it was for _nothing!"_

Nott's face was growing purple, and Katie could almost see her magic around him, like coiled ropes. It was tight around, growing tighter still as her anger and panic fueled each other. "You..." he began to sputter, eyes going wide.

_"Don't you fucking talk to me!"_ Katie shouted, raising her fist at him. "You don't deserve the air you breathe. You don't deserve the sleep you get! You should be the one with the nightmares and the pain and the sleepless nights where you don't know if you'll ever be free of this! You did this to me! _You take it back!"_

It felt like there was another burst of magic out of her chest, almost as if it would have broken through her ribs to get to him. The magic burrowed right into Ruisart Nott, infusing his entire body. Suddenly he was shaking in terror, looking up at an unseen figure standing over him. He struggled to raise his arms up over his head in a warding gesture, but they were stuck fast to his sides as well. Sweat broke out along his entire body, and he couldn't quite burrow into the wall as he clearly wished he could.

Katie felt deflated somehow, as if everything noxious and evil and ripped its way out of her and poured itself straight into Nott's mind. Her son settled down inside of her, and her skin no longer felt tight and stretched.

There wasn't anyone in Knockturn Alley to see her leave Nott there, and no one on Diagon Alley seemed to notice. It wasn't until she got to the furniture store that her knees began to shake and she had to lean against a storefront wall. _Excessive magic will leave you tired,_ Adrian had warned her. She hadn't really wanted to do magic before anyway, and this had been a wandless burst, an uncontrolled fury that had formed a curse on Nott.

"Are you all right, Miss?" a stranger asked out of concern.

Katie turned toward the stranger, a kindly looking old man taking his grandson into Fortescue's. "I... I got lightheaded," she managed to stammer.

The old man smiled. "Come on, then. We'll get you inside. You need to sit somewhere cool and out of the sun. Perhaps eat something?"

A bit of chocolate ice cream did make her feel better, settling her stomach and calming her nerves. She decided to put off her shopping and go home, and the pair accompanied her to the public floo connection just to be sure that she didn't faint.

When Katie arrived in the Flint fireplace, Marcus was pacing back and forth waiting for her. "Are you all right?" he asked as soon as he saw her. She nodded, stunned. He had never seemed quite so worried about her before. "Terence found Nott gibbering like an idiot in Knockturn Alley. He's afraid of his own shadow now, keeps screaming for people to get away from him. They've taken him to Mungo's. Your note said you were going to Diagon Alley..."

Katie carefully cradled his face in her hands, stilling his words. There were still worry lines from his frown, and she kissed his lips softly. "I'm fine." She smiled suddenly, meaning it. "I feel great, and it's like I can breathe for the first time in years. I'm _fine."_

Marcus' eyes widened a fraction. "You did that to him."

"An accident I don't regret at all."

Marcus let his hands slide down her arms gently. "I thought something might have happened to you. I don't know why, but once I thought it, I couldn't get that thought out of my head. I was afraid you both died... "

Katie kissed his lips again, a bit more firmly this time. "I don't plan on going anywhere, Marcus. And our son is just as stubborn."

His stance relaxed as he pulled her into a tight embrace. He buried his face in her hair and simply breathed deeply, but Katie understood. She felt the same way.

***

Their son decided to arrive two days early.

Adrian arrived after five hours of Katie pacing back and forth when the labor pains hit, and he brought her to a room toward the back of the house on the first floor. It had been one that he had prepared for the birth, more or less without input from Marcus. Marcus had been horribly nervous about the idea from the start, as he had been with the nursery. Adrian was more practical; he couldn't afford the time wasted to set up a delivery room if the need arose.

Katie followed all of Adrian's directions, making sure not to push until he told her it was the proper time to do so. She groaned as each contraction came, gritting her teeth and trying to keep her wits about her. At some point Marcus came in, even though he had initially stated he would be nowhere near the birthing room. Katie clutched at his hand desperately, nearly grinding his knuckles together with each contraction. He bore it silently, his eyes never leaving her face. Katie didn't say a word either; even when she would have been able to speak, she was suddenly afraid that everything would go horribly wrong. What if she died, bleeding to death with the birth? She had barely convinced Marcus to set up the nursery two weeks before, and they head shied away from any discussion concerning what to name their son. What if there were problems with the delivery? What if there was distress? What if he died? What if their magic and potions and force of will couldn't make the delivery possible?

Perhaps some of these worries were on Marcus' mind as well. At one point, exhausted, Katie simply collapsed and sobbed in pain and frustration. Whatever spells Adrian had used to dull her pain wasn't working entirely well. She could feel the contractions, and it was painful. Fifteen hours of this so far, and Adrian wasn't telling her if there would be more hours to it.

Marcus brought her hand to his lips. "I'm here with you," he said finally, obviously. "I'm not going anywhere. We'll get through this."

Katie opened her mouth to say something when the urge to push came again, and she nearly cried. "It's got to be now," she said, looking toward Adrian. "Please?"

Adrian scanned her again, then nodded. "Fully dilated. It's safe enough to do this now."

Marcus held her, his face right next to hers the entire time she pushed. He said silly encouraging words as Adrian remained silent with his entire concentration on the delivery. It seemed like forever until Katie felt everything give way, and Adrian stood up with a smile on his face. He did all of the scans and spells and things he needed to do, then set the newborn down on Katie's chest to deliver the afterbirth. "A healthy baby boy," he declared, all prior tension gone.

Katie looked down at the tiny figure of her son, at the tiny curling fingers and the bud mouth that already was searching for her breast. She looked up from him to Marcus, who watched them both with a measure of fear, awe and joy in his eyes. He touched the back of the newborn's head gently, as if afraid of breaking him, then looked up at Katie. "He's healthy," he murmured, as if he couldn't quite believe it.

"As if he could be anything else, the way everyone's been looking out for him," Katie remarked.

Adrian laughed, finishing up his work. "Well, I have everything on the certificate but the name."

"We hadn't—" Katie began.

"Maxim Wesley Flint," Marcus said, interrupting her. Katie looked at him with round eyes. "It's a good, strong name for him."

Adrian nodded, filling out the rest of the birth form. Katie's vision blurred as she felt tears well up. "Thank you."

Marcus touched his forehead to hers. "It's... It's a good name. And..." He licked his lips almost nervously. "You know, I'm a scientist. I do experiments." Katie pulled her head away from his slightly, frowning slightly. "This would have to be repeated. At least a few times, in order to be sure it worked." Marcus seemed almost nervous as he spoke, pulling back slightly. He cradled his son's head, watching him suckle. "I'd have to be sure before I called this a success."

Katie's expression softened and she smiled at Marcus. "At least a few times, you said?"

"Care to try to match Draco Malfoy and Ginny Weasley?"

Her delighted laughter was all the answer he needed.

The End.


End file.
